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HISTORICAL VIEW
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OUTLINES
HISTORICAL VIEW
OF THE
PROGRESS OF THE HUMAN MIND:
BEING A POSTHUMOUS WORK OF THE LATE
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Fabien Chi, Hel. D,
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TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.
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PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, IN ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD,
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CONTENTS.
PAGE.
PRETACE RO
INTROD UC TION eee, EN I
FIRST EPOCH.
Men united mto Hordes 0000000d00000000 000000000008 21
—
srcoxp EPOCH.
Poftral 5 Stare of A — —
from that to the Agricultural State .., 29
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THIRD EPOCH,
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' Progr of Mankind 7 the Agricul-
tural State to the Invention of Alpha» _
betical Writing 0200000000 000000000000 00000000 eee 40 f
FOURTH
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CONTENTS.
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FOURTH EPOCH.
Progreſs of the H. uman Mind in G reece,
till the Diviſion of the Sciences, about
the Age of Alexander . 69
IF TH EPOCH.
Progreſs of the Sciences, from their Divi-
fron to their Decline . ...... .... . ee. 9
. SIXTH EPOCH.
Decline of Learning, to its Reſtoration
about the Period of the Cruſades ..... 137
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SEVENTH EPOCH,
From the firſt Progreſs of the Sciences
. about the Period of their Revival in
the Weſt, to the Invention of the Art
of Printing | .... e. . eee... 159 ;
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EIGHTH
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CONTENTS.
PAGE
EIGHTH EPOCH. |
From the Invention of Printing, to the
Period when the Sciences and Philoſo-
phy threw off the Yoke of . Authority . 178
NINTH EPOCH.
From the Time of Deſcartes, to the Forma-
t10n of the French ; Republic 00000000 00000000 224
TENTH EPOCH.
Future Progreſs of Mankind Cor 0000004 090080000 316
1
PREFACE.
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PREFACE.
ConpokcerT, proſcribed by a ſanguinary
faction, formed the idea of addreſſing to his
fellow-citizens a ſummary of his principles,
and of his conduct in public affairs. He
ſet down a few lines in execution of this
project: but when he recollected, as he was
obliged to do, thirty years of labour directed
to the public ſervice, and the multitude of
fugitive pieces in which, ſince the revolution,
he had uniformly attacked every inſtitution
inimical to liberty, he rejected the idea of
a uſeleſs juſtification. Free as he was from
the dominion of the paſſions, he could not
conſent to ſtain the purity of his mind by
recollecting his perſecutors; perpetually and
ſublimely inattentive to himſelf, he determined
to conſecrate the ſhort ſpace that remained
between him and death to a work of general
TT. — and
;
and permanent utility, That work is the
received a developement,
monſtration, unknown before;
11 PREFACE.
performance now given to the world. It has
relation to a number of others, in which the
rights of men had previouſly been diſcuſſed
and eſtabliſhed; in which ſuperſtition had
received its laſt and fatal blow; in which the
methods of the mathematical ſciences, applied
to new objects, have opened new avenues to
the moral and political ſciences ; in which
the genuine principles of ſocial happineſs have
and kind of de-
laſtly, in
which we every where perceive marks of
that profound morality, which baniſhes even,
the very frailties of ſelf- love of thoſe pure and
incorruptible virtues. within the influence of
which it is ĩimpoſſible . to live without ineling
a religious veneration,
May this deplorable inſtance of the moſt
extraordinary talents loſt to the country—ta
the cauſe of liberty—to the progreſs of ſci-
ence, and its beneficial application to the wants
of
1 200
*
PREFACE,
of civilized man, excite a bitterneſs of regret
that ſhall prove advantageous to the public
welfare! May this death, which will in no
ſmall degree contribute, in the pages of hiſ-
tory, to characteriſe the era in which it has
taken place, inſpire a firm and dauntleſs at-
tachment to the rights of which it was a vio-
lation! Such is the only homage worthy
the ſage who, the fatal ſword ſuſpended over
his head, could meditate in peace the melio-
ration and happineſs of his fellow- creatures;
ſuch the only conſolation thoſe can experience
who have been the objects of his affection, and
have known all the extent of his virtue.
——
OUTLINES
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oF AN__.
INTRODUCTION} D
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Man 1s born with the faculty of receiving
Tenſitions. In thoſe which he receives, he i 18
capable of perceiving and of diſtinguiſhing
the ſimple ſenſations of which they are com-
poſed. He can retain, recogniſe, combine
them. He can preſerve or recal them. to his
memory; he can compare their different
combinations ; ; he can aſcertain what they
poſſeſs in common, and what characteriſes 8
each; laſtly, he can affix. ſigns to all theſe
objects; the better to know them, and the
more eaſily to form from them new combi-
nations.
This faculty is developed in him by the
action of external objects, that is, by the
B N Preſence
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preſence of certain complex ſenſations, the
conſtancy of which, whether in their identi-
cal whole, or in the laws of their change,
is independent of himſelf. It is alſo exer-
ciſed by communication with other ſimilarly
organiſed individuals, and by all the artificial
means which, from the firſt developement of
this faculty, men have ſucceeded in invent-
ing. .
Senſations are accompanied with pleaſure
or pain, and man has the further faculty of
converting theſe momentary impreſſions into
durable ſentiments of a correſponding na-
ture, and of experiencing theſe ſentiments
either at the ſight or recollection of the plea-
ſure or pain of beings ſenſitive like himſelf.
And from this faculty, united with that of
forming and combining ideas, ariſe, between
him and his fellow creatures, the ties of in-
tereſt and duty, to which nature has affixed
the moſt exquiſite portion of our felicity,
and the moſt poignant of our ſufferings.
Were we to confine our obſervations to an
enquiry into the general facts and unvarying
laws which the developement of thefe facul-
ties preſents to us, in what is common to the
| different
(3)
different individuals of the human ſpecies, our
enquiry would beat the name of GY |
ſics.
But if we conſider this developement in
its reſults, relative to the maſs of individuals
co-exiſting at the ſame time on a given ſpace,
and follow it from generation to generation,
it then exhibits a picture of the progreſs of
| human intellect. This progreſs is ſubje& to
the ſame general laws, obſervable in the in-
dividual developement of our faculties ; being
the reſult of that very developement conſi-
dered at once in a great number of indivi-
duals united in ſociety. But the reſult which
every inſtant preſents, depends upon that f |
the preceding inſtants, and has an influence py
4 on the inſtants which follow. LEY
4 This picture, therefore, is hiſtorical ; ſince,
ſubjected as it will be to perpetual variations,
it is formed by the ſucceſſive obſervation of
human ſocieties at the different eras through
which they have paſſed. It will accordingly
exhibit the order in which the changes have
taken place, explain the influence of every
paſt period upon that which follows it, and
thus ſhow, by the modifications which the
| 52 human
( 4)
human ſpecies has experienced, in its inceſ-
ſant renovation through the immenſity of
ages, the courſe which it has purſued, and
the ſteps which it has advanced towards
knowledge and happineſs. From theſe obſer-
vations on what man has heretofore been, and
what he is at preſent, we ſhall be led to the
means of ſecuring and of accelerating the till
further progreſs, of which, from his nature,
we may indulge the hope.
Such is the object of the work I have un-
dertaken; the reſult of which will be to
ſhow, from reaſoning and from facts, that no
bounds have been fixed to the improvement
of the human faculties ; that the perfectibility
of man is abſolutely indefinite ; that the pro-
greſs of this perfectibility, henceforth above
the contral of every power that would im-
pede it, has no other limit than the duration
of the globe upon which nature has placed us.
The courſe of this progreſs may doubtleſs be
more or leſs rapid, but it can never be retro-
grade ; at leaſt while the earth retains its
ſituation in the ſyſtem of the univerſe, and
the laws of this ſyſtem ſhall neither effect
Upon the Om a general overthrow, nor in-
| troduce
1
troduce ſuch changes as would no longer
permit the human race to preſerve and exer-
ciſe therein the ſame faculties, and find the
ſame reſources,
The firſt ſtate of civilization obſervable in
the human ſpecies, is that of a ſociety of
men, few in number, ſubſiſting by means of
hunting and fiſhing, unacquainted with every
art but the imperfe& one of fabricating in an
uncouth manner their arms and ſome houſe-
hold utenſils, and of conſtructing or digging
for themſelves an habitation ; yet already in
poſſeſſion of a language for the communication
of their wants, and a ſmall number of moral
ideas, from which are deduced their common
rules of conduct, living in families, conform-
ing themſelves to general cuſtoms that ſerve
inſtead of laws, and having even a rude form
of government. 3 : 8
In this ſtate it is apparent that the uncer-
tainty and difficulty of procuring ſubſiſtance,
and the unavoidable alternative of extreme
fatigue or an abſolute repoſe, leave not to
man the leiſure in which, by reſigning him-
ſelf to meditation, he might enrich his mind
with new combinations. The means of ſa-
5 tisfying
1
fying his wants are even too dependent upon
chance and the ſeaſons, uſefully to excite
an induſfry, the progreſſive improvement of
which might be tranſmitted to his progeny;
and accordingly the attention of each is con-
fined to the improvement of his individual
{kill and addreſs.
For this reaſon, the progreſs of the human
ſpecies muſt in this ſtage have been extremely
ſlow ; it could make no advance but at diſtant
intervals, and when favoured by extraordi-
nary circumſtances. Meanwhile, to the ſub-
ſiſtance derived from hunting and fiſhing, or
from the fruits which the earth ſpontaneouſly
offered, ſucceeds the ſuſtenance afforded by
the animals which man has tamed, and which
he knows how to preſerve and multiply. To
theſe means is afterwards added an imperfect
agriculture ; he is no longer content with the
fruit or the plants which chance throws in his
way; he learns to form a ſtock of them, to
collect them around him, to ſow or to plant
them, to favour their reproduction by the la-
bour of culture. |
Property, which, in the firſt ſtate, was
confined t to his houſehold utenſils, his arms,
hie
4
his nets, and the animals he killed, is now ex-
tended to his flock, and next to the land which
he has cleared and cultivated. Upon the death
of its head, this property naturally devolves to
the family. Some individuals poſſeſs a ſuper-
fluity capable of being preſerved. If it be ab-
ſolute, it gives riſe to new wants. If con-
fined to a ſingle article, while the proprietor
feels the want of other articles, this want
ſuggeſts the idea of exchange. Hence moral
relations multiply, and become complicate.
A greater ſecurity, a more certain and more
conſtant leiſure, afford time for meditation,
or at leaſt for a continued ſeries of obſerva-
tions. The cuſtom is introduced, as to ſome
individuals, of giving a part of their ſuper-
fluity in exchange for labour, by which. they
might be exempt from labour themſelves,
There accordingly exiſts a claſs of men whoſe
time is not engroſſed by corporeal exertions,
and whoſe deſires extend beyond their ſim-
ple wants. Induſtry awakes; the arts already
known, expand and improve; the facts which
chance preſents to the obſervation of the moſt
attentive and beſt cultivated minds, bring to
light new arts; as the means of living be-
B 4 _—
E320 :
come leſs dangerous and leſs precarious, po-
pulation increaſes ; agriculture, which can 1
provide for a greater number of individuals
upon the ſame ſpace of ground, ſupplies the 1
place of the other ſources of ſubſiſtance; it
favours the multiplication of the ſpecies, by
which it is favoured in its turn; in a ſociety
become more ſedentary, more connected, more
intimate, ideas that have been acquired com-
municate themſelves more quickly, and are
perpetuated with more certainty. And now
the dawn of the ſciences begins to appear;
man exhibits an appearance diſtinct from the 1
other claſſes of animals, and is no longer hike 1
them confined to an improvement purely in-
dividual. 9 85 *
: The more extenſive, more numerous and 4
more complicated relations which men now 1
form with each other, cauſe them to feel the 1
neceſſity of having a mode of communicating
their ideas to the abſent, of preſerving the
remembrance of a fact with more preciſion
than by oral tradition, of fixing the conditions
of an agreement more ſecurely than by the
memory of witneſſes, of ſtating, in a way
ll leſs liable to change, thoſe reſpected cuſtoms
—— — —— — er oe 9
131
to which the members of any fociery agree to
ſubmit their conduct. 115 |
Accordingly the want of writing 1s felt, *
the art invented. It appears at firſt to have |
been an abſolute painting, to which ſucceeded
a conventional painting, preſerving ſuch traits
only as were characteriſtic of the objects. |
Afterwards, by a kind of metaphor analogous
to that which was already introduced into
their language, the image of a phyſical object
became expreſſive of moral ideas. The origin
of thoſe ſigns, like the origin of words, were
liable in time to be forgotten; and writing
became the art of affixing ſigns of convention
to every idea, every word, and of conſequence
tio every combination of ideas and words.
There was now a language that was written,
and a language that was ſpoken, which it Was
neceſſary equally to learn, between which
there muſt be Per a e corre-
ſpondence.
Some men of genius, : ties n Peha
of the human race, but whoſe names and
even country are for ever buried in oblivion,
obſerved that all the words of a language were
only the combinations of a very limited num-
ber
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ber of primitive articulations ; but that this
number, ſmall as it was; was ſufficient to form
a quantity almoſt infinite of different com-
binations. Hence they conceived the idea of
repreſenting by viſible ſigns, not the ideas
or the words that anſwered to them, but thoſe
ſimple elements of which the words are com-
poſed. ,
Alphabetical writing was then W
A ſmall number of ſigns ſerved to expreſs
every thing in this mode, as a ſmall number of
ſounds ſufficed to expreſs every thing orally.
The language written and the language ſpoken
were the ſame; all that was neceſſary was to
be able to know, and to form, the few given
ſigns; and this laſt ſtep ſecured for ever the
progreſs of the human race.
It would perhaps be deſirable at the preſent
day, to inſtitute a written language, which,
devoted to the ſole uſe of the ſciences, ex-
preſſing only ſuch combinations of ſimple
ideas as are found to be exactly the fame in
every mind, employed only upon reaſonings
of logical ſtrictneſs, upon operations of the
mind preciſe and determinate, might be un-
derſtood * men of every country, and be
tranſlated
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tranſlated into all their idioms, without being,
like thoſe idioms, liable to corruption, by
paſſing into common ule.
Then, ſingular as it may appear, this kind
of writing, the preſervation of which would
only have ſerved to prolong ignorance, would
become, in the hands of philoſophy, an uſeful
inſtrument for the ſpeedy propagation of
knowledge, and advancement of the ſciences.
It is between this degree of civilization and
© that in which we ſtill find the ſavage tribes,
that we muſt place every people whoſe hiſtory
has been handed down to us, and who, fome-
times making new advancements, ſometimes
plunging themſelves again into ignorance,
ſometimes floating between the two alter-
natives or ſtopping at a certain limit, ſome-
times totally diſappearing from the earth
under the ſword of conquerors, mixing with
thoſe conquerors, or living in ſlavery ; laſtly,
ſometimes receiving knowledge from a more
enlightened people, to tranſmit it to other
nations, form an unbroken chain of con-
nection between the earlieſt periods of hiſtory
and the age in which we live, between the
firſt
(n)
firſt people known to us, and the a na-
tions of Europe.
In the picture then which 1 mean to
ſketch, three diſtinct parts are perceptible.
In the firſt, in which the relations of tra-
vellers exhibit to us the condition of man-
kind in the leaſt civilized nations, we are
obliged to gueſs by what ſteps man in an
iſolated ſtate, or rather confined to the ſociety
neceſſary for the propagation of the ſpecies,
was able to acquire thoſe firſt degrees of im-
provement, the laſt term of which is the uſe
of an articulate language: an acquiſition that
preſents the moſt ſtriking feature, and indeed
the only one, a few more extenſive moral
ideas and a flight commencement of ſocial
order excepted, which diſtinguiſhes him from
animals living like himſelf in regular and per-
manent ſociety. In this part of our picture,
then, we can have no other guide than an in-
veſtigation of the ee of our fan
_ culties. .
To this firſt guide, ! in order to follow man
to the point in which he exerciſes arts, in
hich the rays of ſcience begin to enlighten
EY | him,
E
him, in wich nations are united by com-
mercial intercourſe; in which, in fine, alpha-
betical writing is invented, we may add the
hiſtory of the ſeveral ſocieties that have been
obſerved in almoſt every intermediate ſtate :
though we can follow no individual one
through all the ſpace which ſeparates theſe
two grand epochs of the human race.
Here the picture begins to take its colour-
ing in great meaſure from the ſeries of facts
tranſmitted to us by hiſtory: but it is ne-
ceſſary to ſelect theſe facts from that of dif-
ferent nations, and at the ſame time compare
and combine them, to form the ſuppoſed
hiſtory of a ſingle people, and delineate its
progrels. |
From the period that alphabetical writing;
was known in Greece, hiſtory is connected
by an uninterrupted ſeries of facts and ob-
ſervations, with the period in which we live,
with the preſent ſtate of mankind in the molt
enlightened countries of Europe; and the
picture of the progrefs and advancement of
the human mind becomes ſtrictly hiſtorical:
Philoſophy has no longer any thing to gueſs,
has no more ſuppoſitious combinations to form;
"=
1
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all it has to do is to collect and arrange facts,
and exhibit the uſeful truths which ariſe from
them as a whole, and from the different
bearings of their ſeveral parts.
There remains only a third picture to
form,—that of our hopes, or the progreſs re-
ſerved for future generations, which the con-
ſtancy of the laws of nature ſeems to ſecure
to mankind. And here it will be neceſſary to
ſhew by what ſteps this progreſs, which at
preſent may appear chimerical, is gradually to
be rendered poſſible, and even eaſy; how
truth, in ſpite of the tranſient ſucceſs of pre-
Judices, and the ſupport they receive from the
corruption of governments or of the people,
muſt in the end obtain a durable triumph ; by
what ties nature has indiſſolubly united the
advancement of knowledge with the progreſs .
of liberty, virtue, and reſpect for the natural
rights of man; how theſe bleſſings, the only.
real ones, though ſo frequently ſeen apart as
to be thought incompatible, muſt neceſſarily
amalgamate and become inſeparable, the mo-
ment knowledge ſhall have arrived at a cer-
tain pitch in a great number of nations at
once, the moment it ſhall have penetrated
| | the
1
the whole maſs of a great people, whoſe lan-
guage ſhall have become univerſal, and whoſe
commercial intercourſe ſhall embrace the
whole extent of the globe. This union having
once taken place in the whole enlightened
_ claſs of men, this claſs will be conſidered as
the friends of human kind, exerting themſelves
in concert to advance the improvement and
happineſs of the ſpecies.
We ſhall expoſe the origin and trace the
hiſtory of general errors, which have more or
leſs contributed to retard or ſuſpend the ad-
vance of reaſon, and ſometimes even, as much
as political events, have been the cauſe of
man's taking a retrograde courſe towards
ignorance.
Thoſe operations of the mind that lead to
or retain us in error, from the ſubtle para-
logiſm, by which the moſt penetrating mind
may be decei ved, to the mad reveries of en-
thuſiaſts, belong equally, with that juſt mode
of reaſoning that conducts us to truth, to the
theory of the developement of our individual
faculties; and for the ſame reaſon, the man-
ner in which general errors are introduced,
Propagated, tranſmitted, and rendered per-
2 manent
CO — —— ͤ AA „46 — — — +
4.
616)
manent among nations, forms a part of the
picture of the progreſs of the human mind:
Like truths which improve and enlighten it,
they are the. conſequence of its activity, and
of the diſproportion that always exiſts be-
tween what it actually knows, what it has
the deſire to know, and what it conceives
there is a neceſſity of acquiring.
It is even apparent, that, from the general
laws of the developement of our faculties,
certain prejudices muſt neceſſarily ſpring up
in each ſtage of our progreſs, and extend
their ſeductive influence beyond that. ſtage ;
becauſe men retain the errors of their in-
fancy, their country, and the age in which
they live, long after the truths neceſſary to
the removal of thoſe errors are acknows
ledged.
In ſhort, there exiſt, at all times and in all
countries, different prejudices, according to
the degree of illumination of the different
claſſes of men, and according to their pro-
feſſions. If the prejudices of philoſophers be
impediments to new acquiſitions of truth,
thoſe of the leſs enlightened clafſes retard the
propagation of truths already Known, and
| = " thole
C 7-3
thoſe of eſteemed and powerful profeſſions
oppoſe like obſtacles. Theſe are the three
kinds of enemies which reaſon is continually
obliged to encounter, and over which ſhe fre-
quently does not triumph till after a long and
painful ſtruggle. The hiſtory of theſe con-
teſts, together with that of the riſe, triumph,
and fall of prejudice, will occupy a conſider-
able place in this work, and will by no means
form the leaſt important or leaſt uſeful part
of It; © E
If there he really ſuch an art as that of
foreſeeing the future improvement of the
human race, and of directing and haſtening
that improvement, the hiſtory of the progreſs
it has already made muſt form the principal
baſis of this art. Philoſophy, no doubt, ought
to proſcribe the ſuperſtitious idea, which ſup-
poſes no rules of conduct are to be found but
in the hiſtory of paſt ages, and no truths but
in the ſtudy of the opinions of antiquity.
But ought it not to include in the pro-
ſcription, the prejudice that would proudly
reject the leſſons of experience ? Certainly it
is meditation alone that can, by happy com-
binations, conduct us to the general prin-
C ciples
E
ciples of the ſcience of man. But if the ſtudy
of individuals of the human ſpecies be of
uſe to the metaphyſician and moraliſt, why
ſhould that of ſocieties be leſs uſeful to them ?
And why not of uſe to the political philo-
ſopher ? It it be advantageous to obſerve the
| ſocieties that exiſt at one and the fame pe-
riod, and to trace their connection and re-
ſemblance, why not to obſerve them in a ſuc-
ceſſion of periods? Even ſuppoſing that ſucty
obſervation might be neglected in the inveſti
gation of ſpeculative truths, ought it to be
neglected when the queſtion is to apply thoſe
truths to practice, and to deduce from ſeience
the art that ſhould be the uſeful reſult? Do
not our prejudices, and the evils that are the
conſequence of them, derive their ſource from
the prejudices of our anceſtors ? And will it
not be the ſureſt way of undeceiving us re-
ſpecting the one, and of preventing the other,
to develope their origin and effects ?
Are we not arrived at the point when there
1s no longer any thing to fear, either from
new errors, or the return of old ones; when
no corrupt inſtitution can be introduced by
hypocriſy, and adopted by ignorance or en-
| _thukiaſm ; 3
3
1606
thuſiaſm; when no vicious combination can
effect the infelicity of a great people? Ac-
cordingly would it not be of advantage to
know how nations have been deceived, cor-
rupted, and plunged in miſery. |
Every thing tells us that we are approach-
ing the era of one of the grand revolutions of
the human race. What can better enlighten
us as to what we may expect, what can be a
ſurer guide to us, amidſt its commotions, than
the picture of the revolutions that have pre-
ceded and prepared the way for it? The pre-
ſent ſtate of knowledge aſſures us that it will be
happy: But is it not upon condition that we
know how to aſſiſt it with all our ſtrength ?
And, that the happineſs it promiſes may be
Jeſs dearly bought, that it may ſpread with
more rapidity over a greater ſpace, that it
may be more complete in its effects, is it not
requiſite to ſtudy, in the hiſtory of the hu-
man mind, what obſtacles remain to be feared,
and by what means thoſe obſtacles are to be
lurmounted?
I ſhall divide the ſpace dvr which I
mean to run, into nine grand epochs ; and
ſhall preſume, in a tenth, to advance ſome
„„ con-
1
conjectures upon the future deſtiny of man-
kind. | |
I ſhall confine myſelf to the principal fea-
tures that characteriſe each; I ſhall give them
in the group, without troubling myſelf with
. exceptions or detail. I ſhall indicate the ob-
jects, of the reſults of which the work itſelf
will preſent the developements and the
proofs. |
„ F
FIRST EPOCH.
Men united into Hordes.
WI have no direct information by which
to aſcertain what has preceded the ſtate of
which we are now to ſpeak; and it is only
by examining the intellectual or moral fa-
culties, and the phyſical conſtitution of man,
that we are enabled to conjecture by what
means he arrived at this firſt degree of ei-
vilization, .
Accordingly an ele e of thoſe *
ſical qualities favourable to the firſt formation
of ſociety, together with a ſummary analyſis
of the developement of our intellectual or
moral faculties, muſt ſerve as an introduQion
to this epoch.
A ſociety conſiſting of a family appears
to be natural to man. Formed at firſt by the
want which children have of their parents,
and by the affection of the mother, as well as
that of the father, though leſs general and
leſs lively, time was allowed, by the long
C 3 con-
” ( 22 )
continuance of this want, for the birth and
growth of a ſentiment which muſt have ex-
cited the defire of perpetuating the union,
The continuance of the want was alſo ſuffi-
cient for the advantages of the union to be
felt. A family placed upon a ſoil that afforded
an eaſy ſubſiſtance, might afterwards have
multiplied and become a horde.
Hordes that may have owed their origin to
the union of ſeveral diſtin& families, muſt
have been formed more {lowly and more
rarely, the union depending on motives leſs
urgent and the concurrence of a greater num-
ber of circumſtances, | |
The art of fabricating arms, of preparing
aliments, of procuring the utenſils requiſite |
for this preparation, of preſerving theſe ali-
ments as a proviſion againſt the ſeaſons in
which it was impoſſihle to procure a freſh
ſupply of them—theſe arts, confined to the
moſt ſimple wants, were the firft fruits of a
continued union, and the firſt features that
diſtinguiſhed human ſociety from the ſociety
obſervable in many ſpecies of beaſts,
In ſome of theſe hordes, the women culti-
vate round the huts plants which ſerve for
food
6
food and ſuperſede the neceſſity of hunting
and fiſhing. In others, formed in places
where the earth ſpontaneouſly offers vegetable
nutriment, a part of the time of the ſavages is
occupied by the care of ſecking and gathering
it. In hordes of the laſt deſcription, where
the advantage of remaining united is leſs felt,
civilization has been obſerved very little to
exceed that of a ſociety conſiſting of a ſingle
family, Meanwhile there has been found in
all the uſe of an articulate language.
More frequent and more durable con-
nections with the ſame individuals, a ſimi-
larity of intereſts, the ſuccour mutually given,
whether in their common hunting or againft
an enemy, muſt have equally produced both
the ſentiment of juſtice and a recipracal af-
fection between the members of the ſociety.
In a ſhort time this affection would transform
itſelf into attachment to the ſociety.
The neceflary conſequence was a violent
enmity, and a deſire of vengeance not to be
extinguiſhed, againſt the enemies of the
horde. 50 1
The want of a chief, in order to act in
common, and thereby defend themſelves the
| 04 better,
2 2:w 2 — = — 12 * n *
— . ICIS
,
( 24 )
better, and procure with greater eaſe a more
certain and more abundant ſubſiſtance, intro-
duced the firſt idea of public authority into
theſe ſocieties. In circumſtances in which the
whole horde was intereſted, reſpecting which
a common reſolution muſt be taken, all thoſe
concerned in executing the reſolution were
to be conſulted. The weakneſs of the females,
which exempted them from the diſtant chace
and from war, the uſual ſubjects of debate,
excluded them alike from theſe conſultations.
As the reſolutions demanded experience, none
were admitted but ſuch as were ſuppoſed to
poſſeſs it. The quarrels that aroſe in a ſociety
diſturbed its harmony, and were calculated to
deſtroy it: it was natural to agree that the
deciſion of them ſhould be referred to thoſe
whoſe age and perſonal qualities inſpired the
greateſt confidence, Such was the origin of
the firſt political inſtitutions,
The formation of a language muſt have
preceded theſe inſtitutions. The idea of ex-
preſſing objects by conventional ſigns appears
to. be above the degree of intelligence attained
in this ſtage of civilization; and it is pro-
bable they were only brought into uſe by
2 length
{ 8; 3
length of time, by degrees, and in a manner
in ſome ſort imperceptible.
The invention of the bow was the work
of a {ſingle man of genius; the formation of a
language that of the whole ſociety. Theſe two
kinds of progreſs belong equally to the human
ſpecies. The one, more rapid, is the reſult of
thoſe new combinations which men favoured
by nature are capable of forming ; is the fruit
of their meditations and the energies they
_ diſplay : the other, more ſlow, ariſes from the
reflections and obſervations that offer them-
ſelves to all men, and from the habits con-
tracted in their common courſe of life.
Regular movements adjuſted to each other
in due proportion, are capable of being exe-
cuted with a leſs degree of fatigue ; and they
who ſee, or hear them, perceive their order
and relation with greater facility. For both
theſe reaſons, they form a ſource of pleaſure.
Thus the origin of the dance, of muſic and
of poetry, may be traced to the infant ſtate
of ſociety. They were employed for the
amuſement of youth and upon occaſions of
public feſtivals. There were at that period
love ſongs and war ſongs ; and even muſical
8 ( 26)
inſtruments were invented. Neither was the
art of eloquence abſolutely unknown in theſe
hordes ; at leaſt they could aſſume in their ſet
ſpeeches a more grave and ſolemn tone, and
were not ſtrangers to rhetorical exaggeration.
The errors that diſtinguiſh this epoch of
civilization are the converſion of vengeance
and cruelty towards an enemy into virtue;
the prejudice that conſigns the female part of
ſociety to a ſort of ſlavery; the right of
commanding in war conſidered as the pre-
rogative of an individual family; together
with the firſt dawn of various kinds of ſuper-
ſtition, Of theſe it will be neceſſary to trace
the origin and aſcertain the motives. For
man never adopts without reaſon any errors,
except what his early education have in a
manner rendered natural to him: if he em-
brace any new error, it is either becauſe it is
connected with thoſe of his infaney, or be-
cauſe his opinions, paſſions, intereſts, or other
circumſtances, diſpoſe him to. embrace it.
The only ſciences known to ſavage hordes,
are a flight and crude idea of aſtronomy, and
the knowledge of certain medicinal plants
employed in the cure of wounds and diſeaſes ;
an
*
(27)
7
* and even theſe are already corrupted by a
intake of ſuperſtition. a
Meanwhile there is preſented to us in this
epoch one fact of importance in the hiſtory of
the human mind. We can here perceive the
beginnings of an inſtitution, that in its pro-
greſs has been attended with oppoſite effects,
" accelerating the advancement of knowledge,
at the ſame time that it diſſeminated error ;
enriching the ſeiences with new truths, but
precipitating the people into ignorance and
religious ſervitude, and obliging them to pur-
chaſe a few tranſient benefits at the price
of a long and ſhameful tyranny.
I mean the formation of a claſs of n men the
depoſitaries of the elements of the ſciences or
proceſſes of the arts, of the myſteries or cere-
monies of religion, of the practices of ſuper- -
ſtition, and frequently even of the ſecrets of
legiſlation and polity. I mean that ſeparation
of the human race into two partions ; the one
deſtined to teach, the other to believe ; the
one proudly concealing what it vainly boaſts
of knowing, the other receiving with reſpect =
whatever its teachers ſhall condeſcend to re-
Your; the one wiſhing to raiſe itſelf above
reaſon,
—iéc„„4ł „é „„
63
reaſon, the other humbly renouncing reaſon,
and debaſing itſelf below humanity, by ac-
knowledging in its fellow men prerogatives
ſuperior to their common nature.
I his diſtinction, of which, at the cloſe of
the eighteenth century, we ſtill ſee the re-
mains in our prieſts, is obſervable in the
leaſt civilized tribes of ſavages, who have
already their quacks and ſorcerers. It is too
general, and too conſtantly meets the eye in
all the ſtages of civilization, not to have a
foundation in nature itſelf: and we ſhall ac-
cordingly find in the ſtate- of the human fa-
culties at this early period of ſociety, the
cauſe of the credulity of the firſt dupes, and
of the rude cunning of the firſt impoſtors.
ö 6
SECOND
t
SECOND EPOCH.
Paſtoral State of Mankind. —T ranſition from
that to the Agricultural State.
Tre idea of preſerving certain animals
taken in hunting, . muſt readily have oc-
curred, when their docility rendered the pre-
ſervation of them a taſk of no difficulty, when
the ſoil round the habitations of the hunters
afforded theſe animals an ample ſubſiſtance,
when the family poſſeſſed a greater quantity
of them than it could for the preſent con-
ſume, and at the ſame time might have rea-
ſon to apprehend the being expoſed to want,
from the ill ſucceſs of the next chace, or the
intemperature of the ſeaſons.
From keeping theſe animals as a ſimple
ſupply againſt a time of need, it was obſerved
that they might be made to multiply, and
thus furniſh a more durable proviſion. Their
milk afforded a farther reſource : and thoſe
fruits of a flock, which, at firſt, were regarded
only as a ſupplement to the produce of the
| chace,
23
chace, became the moſt certain, moſt abund-
ant and leaſt painful means of ſubſiſtance.
Accordingly the chace ceaſed to be eonſidered
as the principal of theſe reſources, and ſoon
as any reſource at all; it was purſaed only
as a pleaſure, or as a neceſſary precaution for
keeping beaſts of prey from the flocks, which, :
become more numerous, could no longer find
round the habitations of their Keepers a ſuffi-
cient nouriſhment.
A more fedentary and leſs fatiguing life
afforded leiſure favourable' to the develope-
ment of the mind. Secure of fubfiſtance, no
longer anxious reſpecting their firſt and indiſ-
penſible wants, men ſought, in the means of
providing for thoſe wants, new ſenſarions.
The arts made ſome progrefs : new light
was acquired reſpecting that of maintaining
domeſtic animals, of favouring their repro-
duction, and even of improving their breed.
Woot was uſed for apparel, and cloth ſub-
ſlituted in the place of ſkins.
Family focieties became more urbane, with-
out being leſs intimate. As the flocks of each
could not multiply in the ſame proportion,
a difference of wealth was eſtabliſhed, Then
W as
„
was ſuggeſted the idea of one man ſharing the
| ptoduce of his flocks with another who had
no flocks, and who was to devote his time
and ſtrength to the care they required. Then
it was found that the labour of a young and
able individual was of more value than the
expence of his bare ſubſiſtance ; and the cuſ-
tom was introduced of retaining priſoners of
war as ſlaves, inſtead of putting them to
death.
Hoſpitality, which is practiſed alſo among
ſavages, aſſumes in the paſtoral ſtate a more
decided and important character, even among
thoſe wandering hordes that dwell in their
waggons or in tents. More frequent occa-
ſions occur for the reciprocal exerciſe of this
act of humanity. between man and man, be-
_ tween individual families, and between one
people and another. It becomes a ſocial duty,
and is ſubjected to laws.
As ſome families poſſeſſed not only a ſure
ſubſiſtance, but a conſtant ſuperfluity, while
others were deſtitute of the neceſſaries of life,
natural compaſſion for the ſufferings of the
latter gave birth to the ſentiment and practice
of beneficence. |
Manners
— %
— rr PE OI
* 4:4
4
1
|
1
190
4 43
|
g [
11
1
if
1 14
1
11
1
i
4 f
IJ
4
Manners muſt of courſe have ſoftened.
The ſlavery of women became leſs ſevere, and
the wives of the rich were no longer con-
demned to fatiguing labours.
A greater variety of articles employed in
ſatisfying the different wants, a greater num-
ber of inſtruments to prepare theſe wants, and
a greater inequality in their diſtribution, gave
energy to exchange, and converted it into
actual commerce: it was impoſſible it ſhould
extend without the neceſſity of a common
meaſure and a ſpecies of money being felt.
Hordes became more numerous. At the
ſame time, in order the more eaſily to maintain
their flocks, they placed their habitations,
hen fixed, more apart from each other; or
changed them into moveable encampments,
as ſoon as they had diſcovered the uſe of
certain ſpecies of animals they had tamed, in
drawing or carrying burthens.
Each nation had its chief for the conduct
of war; but being divided into tribes, from
the neceſſity of ſecuring paſturage, each tribe
had alſo its chief. This ſuperiority was at-
tached almoſt univerſally to certain families.
The heads however of families in poſſeſſion
of
1
of numerous flocks, a multitude of ſlaves, and
who employed in their ſervice a great num-
ber of poor, partook of the authority of the
chiefs of the tribe, as theſe alſo ſhared in that
of the chiefs of the nation; at leaſt when,
from the reſpect due to age, to experience,
and the exploits they had performed, they
were conceived to be worthy of it. And it
is at this epoch of ſociety that we muſt place
the origin of ſlavery, and inequality of poli-
tical rights between men arrived at the age
of maturity.
The counſels of the chiefs of the family or
tribe decided, from ideas of natural juſtice or
of eſtabliſhed uſage, the numerous and intri-
cate diſputes that already prevailed. The
tradition of theſe deciſions, by confirming and
perpetuating the uſage, ſoon formed a kind
of juriſprudence more regular and coherent
than the progreſs of ſociety had rendered
in other reſpects neceſſary. The idea of pro-
perty and its rights had acquired greater ex-
tent and preciſion, The diviſion of inhe-
ritances becoming more important, there was
a neceſſity of ſubjecting it to fixed regula-
lations, The agreements that were entered
D 1
-——© Fed, P =
( 04 2}
into being more frequent, were no longer con-
fined to ſuch ſimple objects; they were to
be ſubjefted to forms; and the manner of |
. verifying them, to ee their execution, had,
alſo its laws. |
The utility of obſerving the ſtars, the occu-
pation which in long evenings they afforded to
the mind, and the leiſure enjoyed by the ſhep-
herds, effected a ſlight degree of improvement
in aſtronomy.
But we obſerve advancing at the fame
time the art of deceiving men in order to
[1 rob them, and of aſſuming over their opinions
an authority founded upon the hopes and
fears of the imagination. More regular forms
| of worſhip begin to be eſtabliſhed, and fyſ-
tems of faith leſs coarſely combined. The
|; ideas entertained of ſupernatural powers, ac- |
| ' quire a ſort of refinement: and with this re-
| ' finement we ſee ſpring up in one place pon-
tiff princes, in another ſacerdotal families or
| tribes, in a third colleges of prięſis; a claſs of
individuals uniformly affecting infolent pre-
Toegatives, ſeparating themſelves from the
People, the better to enſlave them, and ſeizing
| Oy upon medicine and aſtronomy,
5 that
— EOS ee" o. eh.
j
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this were diſcovered.
8)
that they may poſſeſs every hold upon the
mind for ſubjugating it, and leave no means
by which to unmaſk their en and
A break in pieces their chains.
Languages were enriched without becoming
leſs figurative or leſs bold. The images em-
ployed were more varied and more pleaſing.
They were acquired in paſtoral life, as well as
in the ſavage life of the foreſts, from the re-
gular phenomena of nature, as well as from
its wildneſs and eccentricities. Song, poetry,
and inſtruments of muſic were improved
during a leiſure that produced an audience
more peaceable, and at the ſame time more
difficult to pleaſe, and allowed the artiſt to
reflect on his own ſentiments, examine
his firſt ideas, and form a ſelection from
them. |
It could not have claphd: obſervation that
| ſome plants yielded the flocks a better and
more abundant ſubſiſtance than others. The
advantage was accordingly felt of favouring.
the production of theſe, of ſeparating them
from plants leſs nutritive, unwholſome, and
even dangerous; and the means of effecting
D 2 =
( $6 J
In like manner, where plants, grain, the
ſpontaneous fruits of the earth, contributed,
with the produce of the flocks, to the ſqb-
fiſtance of man, it muſt equally have been
obſerved how thoſe vegetables multiplied ;
and the care muſt have followed of collecting
them nearer to the habitations ; of ſeparating
them from uſeleſs vegetables, that they might
occupy a ſoil to themſelves; ,of ſecuring them
from untamed beaſts, from the flocks, and
even from the rapacity of other men.
Theſe ideas muſt have. equally occurred,
and even ſooner, in more fertile countries,
where the ſpontaneous productions of the
earth almoſt ſufficed of themſelves for the ſup-
port of men; who now began to devote
themſelves to agriculture.
In ſuch a country, and under a his cli-
mate, the ſame ſpace of ground produces,
in corn, roots, and fruit, wherewith to main-
tain a greater number of men than if em-
ployed as paſturage. Accordingly, when the
nature of the ſoil rendered not ſuch cultiva-
tion too laborious, when the diſcovery was
made of employing therein thoſe ſame ani-
mals uſed by paſtoral tribes for the tranſport
from
LE.
from place to place of themſelves and their
effects, agriculture became the moſt plentiful
ſource of ſubſiſtance, the firſt occupation of
men ; and the human race arrived at the third
epoch of its progreſs.
There are people who have remained, from
time immemorial, in one of the two ſtates we
have deſcribed, They have not only not
riſen of themſelves to any higher degree of
improvement, but the connections and com-
mercial intercourſe they have had with nations
more civilized have failed to produce this
effect. Such connections and intercourſe have
communicated to them ſome knowledge, ſome
induſtry, and a great many vices, but have
never been able to draw them from their ſtate
of mental ſtagnation, |
The principal cauſes of this phenomenon
are to be found in climate; in habit; in the
ſweets annexed to this ſtate of almoſt com-
plete independence, an independence not to
be equalled but in a ſociety more perfect even
than our own; in the natural attachment of
man to opinions received from his infancy,
and to the cuſtoms of his country; in the
averſion that ignorance feels to every ſort of
">a novelty;
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novelty ; in bodily and more eſpecially men-
tal indolence, which ſuppreſs the feeble and
as yet ſcarcely exiſting ſpark of curioſity;
and laſtly, in the empire which ſuperſtition
already exerciſes over theſe infant ſocieties.
To theſe cauſes muſt be added the avarice,
cruelty, corruption and prejudices of po-
liſhed nations, who appear to theſe people
more powerful, more rich, more informed,
more active, but at the ſame time more vi-
cious, and particularly leſs happy than them-
ſelves, They muſt frequently indeed have
been lefs ſtruck with the ſuperiority of ſuch
nations, than terrified at the multiplicity and
extent of their wants, the torments of their
avarice, the never ceaſing agitations of their
ever active, ever inſatiable paſſions. This de-
{cription of people has by ſome philoſophers
been pitied, and by others admired and ap-
plauded ; theſe have confidered as wiſdom
and virtue, what the former have called by
the names of ſtupidity and ſloth.
The queſtion in debate between them will
be reſolved in the courſe of this work. It
will there be ſeen why the progreſs of the
mind has not been at all times accompanied
with
/ » 2
'4 39 )
with an equal progreſs towards happineſs and
virtue ; and how the leaven of prejudices and
errors has polluted the good that ſhould flow
from knowledge, a good which depends
more upon the purity of that knowledge than
its extent. Then it will be found that the
ſtormy and arduous tranſition of a rude ſo-
ciety to the ſtate of civilization of an en-
lightened and free people, implies no degene-
ration of the human ſpecies, but is a neceſſary
criſis in its gradual advance towards abſolute
perfection. Then it will be found that it 1s
not the increaſe of knowledge, but its de-
cline, that has produced. the vices of poliſhed
nations, and that, inſtead of corrupting, it has
In all caſes ſoftened, where it has been unable
to correct or to change the manners of men.
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THIRD EPOCH.
Progreſs of Mank md from the Agricultural State
to the Invention of Alphabetical Writing.
IEE uniformity of the picture we have
hitherto drawn will ſoon diſappear; and we
ſhall no longer have to delineate thoſe in-
diſtinct features, thoſe ſlight ſhades of differ-"
ence, that diſtinguiſh the manners, characters,
opinions and ſuperſtitions of men, rooted, as
it were, to their ſoil, and perpetuating almoſt
without mixture a ſingle family.
Invaſions, conqueſts, the riſe and overthrow
of empires, will ſhortly be ſeen mixing and
confounding nations, ſometimes diſperſing
them over a new territory, ſometimes cover-
ing the ſame ſpot with different people,
Fortuitous events will continually interpoſe,
and derange the flow but regular movement
of nature, often retarding, ſometimes accele-
rating it.
The appearances we obſerve in a nation in
any particular age, have frequently their cauſe
in
6
in a revolution happening ten ages before
it, and at a diſtance of a thouſand leagues;
and the night of time conceals a great portion
of thoſe events, the influence of which we ſec
operating upon the men who have pre- |
ceded us, and ſometimes extending to our-
ſelves. |
But we have guſt to conſider the effects of
the change of which we are ſpeaking, in a
ſingle people, and independently of the in-
fluence that conqueſts and the i intermixture of
nations may have exerciſed.
Agriculture attaches man to the ſoil which
he cultivates. It is no longer his perſon, his
family, his implements for hunting, that it
would ſuffice him to tranſport; it is no longer
even his flocks which he might drive before
him. The ground not belonging in common
to all, he would find in his flight no ſubſiſt.
ance, either for himſelf or the animals from
which he derives his ſupport.
Each parcel of land has a maſter, to whom
alone the fruits of it belong. The harveſt
exceeding the maintenance of the animals
and men by whom it has been prepared, fur-
niſhes the proprietor with an annual wealth,
ö that
( 42)
that he has no neceſſity of purchaſing with
his perſonal labour.
In the two former ſtates of ſociety, every
individual, or every family at leaſt, practiſed
nearly all the neceſſary arts.
But when there were men, who, without
labour, lived upon the produce of their land,
and others who received wages ; when oc-
cupations were multiplied, and the proceſles
of the arts become more extenſive and com-
plicate, common intereſt ſoon enforced a ſe-
paration of them. It was perceived, that the
induſtry of an individual, when confined to
fewer objects, was more complete; that the
hand executed with greater readineſs and pre-
ciſion a ſmaller number of operations that
long habit had rendered more familiar ; that
a leſs degree of underſtanding was required
to perform a work well, when that work had
been more frequently repeated.
Accordingly, while one portion of men de-
voted themſelves to the labours of huſbandry,
others prepared the neceſſary inſtruments.
The care of the flocks, domeſtic economy,
and the making of different articles of ap-
parel, became in like manner diftint em-
plwoyments.
6
ployments. As, in families poſſeſſing but
little property, one of theſe occupations was
inſufficient of itſelf to engroſs the whole time
of an individual, ſeveral were performed by
the ſame perſon, for which he received the
wages only of a ſingle man. Soon the ma-
terials uſed in the arts increaſing, and their
nature demanding different modes of treat-
ment, ſuch as were analogous in this reſpect
became diſtinct from the reſt, and had a par-
_ ticular claſs of workmen. Commerce ex-
panded, embraced a greater number of ob-
Jets, and derived them from a greater extent
of territory: and then was formed another
claſs of men, whoſe ſole occupation was the
purchaſe of commodities for the purpoſe of
preſerving, tranſporting, or ſelling them again
with profit.
Thus to the three claſſes of men before
diſtinguiſhable in paſtoral life, that of pro-
prietors, that of the domeſtics of their family,
and laſtly, that of ſlaves, we muſt now add,
that of the different kinds of artiſans, and
that of merchants, | |
Then it was, that, in a ſociety more fixed,
more compact, and more intricate, the ne-
ceſſity was felt of a more regular and more
ample
—
( 44 )
ample code of legiſlation; of determining
with greater preciſion the puniſhments for
crimes, and the forms to be obſerved as to
contracts; of ſubjecting to ſeverer rules the
means of aſcertaining and verifying the facts
to which the law was to be applied.
This progreſs was the flow and gradual
work of neceſſity and concurring circum-
ſtances: it is but a ſtep or two farther in the
route we have already traced in paſtoral
nations.
In the firſt two epochs, education was
purely domeſtic. The children were inſtructed
by reſiding with the father, in the common
labours that were followed, or the few arts
that were known, From him they received
the ſmall number of traditions that formed
the hiſtory of the horde or of the family, the
fables that had been tranſmitted, the know-
I ledge of the national cuſtoms; together with
7 the principles and prejudices that compoſed
their petty code of morality. Singing, dancing
and military exerciſes they acquired in the
ſociety of their friends, |
In the epoch at which we are arrived, the
children of the richer families received a ſort
of common education, either in towns, from
CONs
(8 7
converſation with the old and experienced, or
in the houſe of a chief, to whom they at-
tached themſelves. Here it was they were
inſtructed in the laws, cuſtoms and prejudices
of the country, and learned to chant poems
deſcriptive of the events of its hiſtory.
A more ſedentary mode of life had intro-
duced a greater equality between the ſexes.
The wives were no longer conſidered as ſimple
objects of utility, as only the more familiar
| ſlaves of their maſter. Man looked upon them
as companions, and ſaw how conducive
they might be made to his happineſs. Mean-
while, even in countries where they were
treated with moſt reſpect, where polygamy
was proſcribed, neither reaſon nor juſtice ex
tended fo far as to an entire reciprocity as to
the right of divorce, and an equal infliction
of puniſhment in caſes of infidelity.
The hiſtory of this claſs of prejudices, and
of their influence on the lot of the human
| ſpecies, muſt enter into the picture I have
propoſed to draw; and nothing can better
evince how cloſely man's happineſs is con-
nected with the progreſs of reaſon.
Some nations remained diſperſed over the
country. Others united themſelves in towns,
which
( 46 )
which became the reſidence of the common
chief, called by a name anſwering to the word
&img, of the chiefs of tribes who partook his
power, and of the elders of every great fas
mily. There the common affairs of the ſo-
ctety were decided, as well as individual
diſputes. There the rich brought together
the moſt valuable part of his wealth, that it
might be ſecure from robbers, who muſt of
courſe have multiplied with ſedentary riches.
When nations remained diſperſed over a terri-
tory, cuſtom determined the time and place
where the chiefs were to meet for deliberation
upon the general intereſts of the community,
and the adjudication of ſuits.
Nations who acknowledged a common ori- T
gin, who ſpoke the ſame language, without
abjuring war with each other, entered almoſt
univerſally into a confederacy more or leſs
cloſe, and agreed to unite themſelves, either
againſt foreign enemies, or mutually to avenge
their wrongs, or to diſcharge in common ſome
religious duty.
Hoſpitality and commerce 3 even
ſome laſting ties between nations different in
origin, cuſtoms and language; ties that by
n and war were often diſſolved, but
which |
(
which neceſſity, ſtronger than the love of
pillage or a thirſt for vengeance, afterwards
renewed.
To murder the vanquiſhed, or to {trip and
reduce them to ſlavery, was no longer the
only acknowledged right between nations
inimical to each other. Ceſſions of territory,
ranſoms, tribute, in part ſupplied the place of
theſe barbarous outrages.
At this epoch every man that poſſeſſed
arms was a ſoldier. He who had the beſt,
and beſt knew how to exerciſe them, who
could furniſh arms for others, upon condition
that they followed him to the wars, and from
the proviſion he had amaſſed was in a ca-
pacity to ſupply their wants, neceſſarily be-
came a chief, But this obedience, almoſt vo-
luntary, did not involve them in a ſervile
dependence.
As there was ſeldom * for new laws: ;
as there were no public expences to which
the citizens were obliged to contribute, and
ſuch as it became neceſſary to incur were de-
frayed out of the property of the chiefs, or
the lands that were preſerved in common; as
the idea of reſtricting induſtry and commerce
-
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by
1483
by regulations was unknown; as offenſive
war was decided by general conſent, or un-
dertaken by thoſe only who were allured by
the love of glory or delire of pillage ;---man
believed himſelf free in theſe rude govern-
ments, notwithſtanding the hereditary ſuc-
ceſſion, almoſt univerſal, of their firſt chiefs
or kings, and the prerogative, uſurped by
other ſubordinate chiefs, of ſharing alone the
political authority, and exerciſing the func-
tions of government as well as of magiſtracy.
But frequently a king ſurrendered himſelf
to the impulſe of perſonal vengeance, to the
commiſſion of arbitrary acts of violence; fre-
quently, in theſe privileged families, pride,
hereditary hatred, the fury of love and thirſt
for gold, engendered and multiplied crimes,
while the chiefs aſſembled in towns, the in-
ſtruments of the paſſions of kings, excited
therein factions and civil wars, oppreſſed the
people -by iniquitous judgments, and tor-
_ mented them by the enormities of their am-
bition and rapacity.
In many nations the exceſſes of theſe fa-
milies exhauſted the patience of the people,
who accordingly OY baniſhed, or ſub-
jected
( 49 )
jected them to the common law; it was
rarely that their title, with a limited authority,
was preſerved to them; and we ſee take place
what has ſince been called by the name of
republics.
In other places, theſe kings, ſurrounded
with minions, becauſe they had arms and
treaſures to beſtow on them, exerciſed an
abſolute authority: and ſuch was the origin
of tyranny. |
Elſewhere, particularly i in countries where
the ſmall nations did- not unite together in
towns, the firſt forms of thoſe crude inſti-
tutions were preſerved, till the period in
which theſe people, either fell under the yoke
of a conqueror, or, inſtigated by the ſpirit of
robbery, ſpread themſelves over a foreign
| territory.
This tyranny, compreſſed within too narrow.
a ſpace, could have but a ſhort duration. The
people ſoon threw of a yoke which force
alone impoſed, and opinion had been unable
»
to maintain, The monſter was ſeen too
nearly not to excite more horror than dread ;
and force as well as opinion could forge no
durable chains, if tyrants did not extend their
K empire
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141
empire to a diſtance ſufficiently great to be
able, by dividing the nation they oppreſſed,
to conceal from it the ſecret of its own power
and of their weakneſs. |
The hiſtory of republics belongs to the next
epoch : but that which we are conſidering
will preſently exhibit a new ſpectacle.
An agricultural people, ſubjected to a
foreign power, does not abandon its hearths :
neceſſity obliges it to labour for its maſters.
Sometimes the ruling nation contents-itſelf
with leaving, upon the conquered territory,
chiefs to govern, ſoldiers to defend it, and
eſpecially to keep in awe the inhabitants, and
with exacting from the ſubmiſhve and diſ-
armed ſubjects a tribute in money or in pro-
viſion. 5 | |
Sometimes it ſeizes upon the territory it-
ſelf, diſtributing the property of it to the
officers and ſoldiers: in that caſe it annexes
to each eſtate the old occupiers that culti-
vated it, and ſubjects them to this new kind
of ſlavery, which is regulated by laws more
or leſs rigorous. Military ſervice, and a tri-
bute from the individuals of the conquered
people, are — conditions upon which the
enjoy-
tt [2
enjoyment of theſe lands 18 wa to
them.
Sometimes the ruling nation reſerves to it-
ſelf the property of the territory, and diſtri-
butes only the uſufruct upon the ſame con-
ditions as in the preceding inſtance.
Commonly, however, all theſe modes of re-
compenſing the inſtruments of conqueſt, and
of robbing the n are adopted at che
ſame time.
Hence we ſee new claſſes of men ſpring |
up; the deſcendants of the conquering na-
tion and thoſe of the oppreſſed ; an hereditary
nobility, not however to be confounded with
the patrician dignity of republics; a people
condemned to labour, to dependence, to a
ſtate of degradation, but not to ſlavery; and
laſtly, ſlaves attached to the glebe, a claſs dif-
fering from that of domeſtic ſlaves, whoſe
ſervitude is leſs arbitrary, and who may ap-
peal againſt the eaprices of their maſters to
the law. |
It is here alſo we may obſerve the origin
of the feodal ſyſtem, a peſt that has not been
| peculiar to our own climate, but has found-a
e in almoſt every part of the globe, at
| E 2 the
1
the ſame periods of civilization, and when-
ever a country has been occupied by two
people between whom victory has eſtabliſhed
an hereditary inequality.
In ſine, deſpotiſm was alſo the fruit of con-
queſt, By deſpotiſm I here mean, in order
to diſtinguiſh it from tyrannies of a tranſient
duration, the oppreſſion of a people by a
ſingle man, who governs it by opinion, by
habit, and above all, by a military force, over
the individuals of which he exerciſes himſelf
an arbitrary authority, but at the ſame time is
obliged to reſpect their prejudices, flatter their
caprices, and ſooth their avidity and pride.
Perſonally guarded by a numerous and
ſele& portion of this armed force, taken from
the conquering nation or conſiſting of fo-
reigners; immediately ſurrounded by the moſt
powerful military chiefs ; holding the pro-
vinces in awe by means of generals who have
the control of inferior detachments of this
ſame armed body, the deſpot reigns by terror:
nor is the poſſibility conceived, either by the
depreſſed people, or any of thoſe diſperſed
chiefs, rivals as they are to each other, of
bringing againſt this man a force, which the
| armies
463
armies he has at his command would not be
able to cruſh at the inſtant,
A mutiny of the guards, an inſurrection in
the capital, may be fatal to the deſpot, without
_ cruſhing deſpotiſm. The general of an army,
by deſtroying a family rendered ſacred by pre-
judice, may eſtabliſh a new dynaſty, but it is
only to exerciſe a ſimilar tyranny. |
In this third epoch, the people who have
yet not experienced the misfortune, either of
conquering, or of being conquered, exhibit a
picture of thoſe {imple but ſtrong virtues of
agricultural nations, thoſe manners of heroic
times, rendered ſo intereſting by a mixture of
greatneſs and ferocity, of generoſity and bar-
bariſm, that we are ſtill ſo far ſeduced as to
admire and even regret them.
On the contrary, in empires founded by
conquerors, we are preſented with a picture
containing all the gradations and ſhades of
that abaſement and corruption, to which deſ-
potiſm and ſuperſtition can reduce the human
ſpecies. There we ſee ſpring up taxes upon
induſtry and commerce, exactions obliging a
man to purchaſe the right of employing as he
pleaſes his own faculties, laws reſtricting him
E * in
T1
in the choice of his labour and uſe of his pro-
perty, other laws compelling the children to
follow the profeſſion of their parents, confiſ-
cations, cruel and atrocious puniſhments, in
ſhort, all thoſe acts of arbitrary power, of le-
galized tyranny, of ſuperſtitious wickedneſs,
that a contempt of human nature has been
able to invent.
In hordes that have not — any
conſiderable revolution, we may obſerve the
pregreſs of civilization ſtopping at no very
elevated point. Meanwhile men already felt
the want of new ideas or ſenſations; a want
which is the firſt moving power in the pro-
greſs of the human mind, equally awakening
a taſte for the ſuperfluities of luxury, inciting
induſtry and a ſpirit of curioſity, and piercing
with an eager eye the veil with which na-
ture has concealed her ſecrets. But it has
happened, almoſt univerſally, that, to eſcape
this want, men have ſought, and embraced
with a kind of phrenzy, phyſical means of
procuring ſenſations that may be continually
renewed, Such is the practice of uſing fer-
mented liquors, hot drinks, opium, tobacco,
and betel, There are few nations among
whom
(ir 1
whom one or other of theſe practices is not
obſerved, from which is derived a pleaſure
that occupies whole days, or is repeated at
every interval, that prevents the weight of
time from being felt, ſatisfies the neceſſity of
having the faculties rouſed or employed, and
at laſt blunting the edge of this neceſſity, thus
prolongs the duration of the infancy and inac-
tivity of the human mind. Theſe practices,
which have proved an obſtacle to the pro-
greſs of ignorant and enſlaved nations, pro-
duce alſo their effects in wiſer and more civi-
lized countries, preventing truth from dif-
fuſing through all claſſes of it men a pure and |
equal light. | |
By expoſing what was the ſtate of the arts
in the firſt two periods of ſociety, it will be
ſeen how to thoſe of working wood, ſtone,
or the bones of animals, of preparing ſkins,
and weaving cloths, theſe infant people were
able to add the more difficult ones of dyeing,
of making earthen ware, and eyen their firſt
attempts upon metals.
In iſolated nations the progreſs of theſe
arts muſt have been ſlow; but the intercourſe,
flight as it was, which took place between
1 them,
6569
them, ſerved to haſten it. A new method of
proceeding, a better contrivance, diſcovered
by one people, became common to its neigh-
bours. Conqueſt, which has fo often de-
ſtroyed the arts, began with extending, and
contributed to the improving of them, before
it ſtopped their progreſs, or was inſtrumental
to their fall.
We obſerve many of theſe arts carried to
the higheſt degree of perfection in countries,
where the long influence of ſuperſtition and
deſpotiſm has completed the degradation of
all the human faculties. But, if we ſcrutinife
the wonderful productions of this ſervile in-
duſtry, we ſhall find nothing in them which
announces the inſpiration of genius; all the
improvements appear to be the ſlow and
painful work of reiterated practice; every
where may be ſeen, amidſt this labour which
aſtoniſhes us, marks of ignorance and ſtupi-
dity that diſcloſe its origin.
In ſedentary and peaceable ſocieties, "OY
nomy, medicine, the moſt ſimple notions of
anatomy, the knowledge of plants and mine-
rals, the firſt elements of the ſtudy of the
phenomena of nature, acquired ſome im-
1 prove
( 97 1
provement, or rather extended themſelves by
the mere influence of time, which, increaſing
the ſtock of obſervations, led, in a manner
ſlow, but ſure, to the eaſy and almoſt inſtant
perception of ſome of the general conſequences
to which thoſe obſervations were calculated
to lead,
| Meanwhile this improvement was ex-
tremely {lender ; and the ſciences would have
remained for a longer period in a ſtate of
earlieſt infancy, if certain families, and eſpe-
cially particular caſts, had not made them the
_ firſt foundation of their reputation and power.
Already the obſervation of man and of fo-
cieties had been connected with that of na-
ture. Already a ſmall number of moral
maxims, of a practical, as well as a political
kind, had been tranſmitted from generation to
generation. Theſe were ſeized upon by thoſe
caſts: religious ideas, prejudices, and different
ſuperſtitions contributed to a {till far.aer in-
creaſe of their power. They ſucceeded the
firſt aſſociations, or firſt families, of empirics
and ſorcerers ; but they practiſed more art to
deceive and ſeduce the mind, which was now
leſs rude and ignorant, The knowledge they
actually
„
actually poſſeſſed, the apparent auſterity of
their lives, an affected contempt for what
was the object of the deſires of vulgar men,
gave weight to their impoſtures, while theſe
impoſtures at the ſame time rendered ſacred,
in the eyes of the people, their ſlender ſtock
of knowledge, and their hypocritical virtues.
The members of theſe ſocieties purſued at
firſt, almoſt with equal ardour, two very dif-
ferent objects: one, that of acquiring for
themſelves new information ; the other, that
of employing ſuch as they had already ac-
quired in deceiving the people, and gaining
an aſcendancy over their minds.
Their ſages devoted their attention particu-
larly to aſtronomy : and, as far as we can
Judge from the ſcattered remains of the mo-
numents of their labours, they appear to have
carried it to the higheſt poſſible pitch to which,
without the aid of teleſcopes, without the aſ-
ſiſtance of mathematical theories ſuperior to
the firſt elements, it can be ſuppoſed to ar-
rive.
In reality, by means of a continued courſe
of obſervations, an idea ſufficiently accurate of
the motion of the ſtars may be acquired, by
which
C8 |
which to calculate and predict the phenomena
of the heavens. Thoſe empirical laws, fo
much the eaſter attained as the attention be-
comes extended through a greater ſpace 'of
time, did not indeed lead theſe firſt aſtrono-
mers to the diſcovery of the general laws of
the ſyſtem of the univerſe ; but they ſuffi- 55
ciently ſupplied their place for every purpoſe
that might intereſt the wants or curioſity of
man, and ſerve to augment the credit of theſe
uſurpers of the excluſive right of inſtructing
him.
It ſhould ſeem that to them we are in-
debted for the ingenious idea of arithmetical
ſcales, that happy mode of repreſenting all
poſſible numbers by a ſmall quantity of ſigns,
and of executing, by technical operations of
a very ſimple nature, calculations which the
human intellect, left to itſelf, could not have
reached. This is the firſt example of thoſe
contrivances that double the powers of the
mind, by means of which it can extend inde-
finitely its limits, without its being poſſible to
ſay to it, thus far ſhalt thou 80, and no far-
ther.
But they do not appear to have extended
the ſcience of arithmetic NN its firſt 3
tions. :
Their
(6
Their geometry, including what was neceſ-
ſary for ſurveying, as well as for the practice
of aſtronomy, is bounded by that celebrated
problem which Pythagoras carried with him
into Greece, or diſcovered anew.
The conſtructing of machines they reſigned
to thoſe by whom the machines were to be
uſed. Some recitals, however, in which there
is a mixture of fable, ſeem to indicate their
having cultivated themſelves this branch of
the ſciences, and employed it as one of the
means of ben upon the mind by a ſem-
blance of prodigy.
The laws of motion, the ſcience of the me-
chanical poyers, attracted not their notice.
If they ſtudied medicine and ſurgery, that
part eſpecially the object of which is the
treatment of wounds, anatomy was neglected
by them,
Their knowledge in botany, and! in natu-
ral hiſtory, was confined to the articles uſed
as remedies, and to ſome plants and minerals,
the ſingular properties of which might _
their projects.
Their chymiſtry, reduced to the moſt ſim»
ple proceſſes, without theory, without me-
thod, without analyſis, conſiſted in the making
certain
„
eertain preparations, in the knowledge of a
few ſecrets relative to medicine or the arts, or
in the acquifition of ſome noſtrums calculated
to dazzle an ignorant multitude, ſubjected to
chiefs not leſs ignorant than itſelf,
The progreſs of the ſciences they conſidered
but as a ſecondary object, as an inſtrument
of perpetuating or extending their power.
They ſought Truth only to diffuſe errors; and
it is not to be wondered they lo ſeldom found
' HET;
In the mean time, flow and feeble as was
this progreſs of every kind, it would not
have been attainable, if theſe men had not
known the art of writing, the only way by
which traditions can be rendered ſecure and
permanent, and knowledge, in proportion as
it increaſes, be communicated and tranſmitted
to poſterity.
Accordingly, hieroglyphic writing was
either one of their firſt inventions, or had
been diſcovered prior to the formation of
caſts aſſuming to themſelves the rn.
of inſtruction.
As the view of theſe caſts was not to en-
lighten, but to govern the mind, they not
only
TY
only avt ded communicating to the people the
whole of their knowledge, but adulterated -
with errors ſuch portions as they thought
proper to diſcloſe. They taught not what
they believed to be true, but what they
thought favourable to their own ends.
Every thing which the people received from
them had in it a ſtrange mixture of ſomething
ſupernatural, ſacred, celeſtial, which led theſe
men to be regarded as beings ſuperior to
humanity, as inveſted with a divine character,
as deriving from heaven itſelf information
prohibited to the reſt of mankind.
Theſe men had therefore two doctrines, one
for themſelves, the other for the people. Fre-
quently even, as they were divided into many
orders, each order reſerved to itſelf its own
myſteries. All the inferior orders were at
once both knaves and dupes ; and it was only
by a few adepts that all the mazes of this hy-
pocritical ſyſtem were underſtood and de-
veloped. 1235 1
No circumſtance proved more favourable to
the eſtabliſhment of this double doctrine, than
the changes which time, and the intercourſe
and mixture of nations, introduced into lan-
guage.
663)
guage. The double-doctrine men, preſerving
the old language, or that of another nation,
thereby ſecured the advantage of having one
that was underſtood only by themſelves.
The firſt mode of writing, which repre-
ſented things by a painting more or leſs
accurate, either of the thing itſelf or of an
analogous object, giving place to a more
ſimple. mode, in which the reſemblance of
theſe objects was nearly effaced, in which
ſcarcely any ſigns were employed but ſuch as
were in a manner purely conventional, the
ſecret doctrine came to have a writing, as it
had before a language to itſelf,
In the origin and upon the firſt - intro-
duction of language, almoſt every word is a
metaphor, and every phraſe an allegory. The
mind catches at once both the figurative and
natural ſenſe; the word ſuggeſts at the ſame
inſtant with the idea, the analogous image by
which it has been expreſſed. But from the habit
of employing a word in a figurative ſenſe, the
mind alternately fixed upon that alone, heed-
leſs of the original meaning: and thus the
figurative ſenſe of a word became gradually
its proper and ordinary ſignification ©
: | e The
—
„
The prieſts by whom the firſt allegorical
language was preſerved, employed it with the
people, who were no longer capable of dif-
covering its true meaning; and who, ac-
cuſtomed to take words in one acceptation
only, that generally received, pictured to
themſelves I know not what abſurd and ri-
diculous fables, in expreſſions that conveyed
to the minds of the prieſts but a plain and
ſimple truth. The ſame uſe was made by
the prieſts of their ſacred writing. The
people ſaw men, animals, monſters, where
the prieſts meant only to repreſent an aſtro-
nomical phenomenon, an hiſtorical occurrence
of the year. 3
Thus, for example, the prieſts, in their con-
templations, invented, and introduced almoſt
every where, the metaphyſical ſyſtem of a
great, immenſe and eternal ALL, of which the
whole of the beings that exiſted were only
parts, of which the various changes obſervable
in the univerſe were but modifications. The
heavens ſtruck them in no other light than as
groupes of ſtars diſperſed through the im-
menſity of- ſpace, planets deſcribing motions
more or leſs complicate, and phenomena
5 3 f
— mais
(( ©bs 3)
pur ely-phyſical reſulting from their reſpective
poſitions. They affixed names to theſe con-
ſtellations and planets, as well as to the fixed
or moveable circles, invented with a view to
repreſent their ſituation and courſe, and ex-
plain their appearances.
But the language, the memorials, employed
in expreſſing theſe metaphyſical opinions,
theſe natural truths, exhibited to the eyes of
the people the moſt extravagant ſyſtem of
mythology, and became the foundation of
creeds the moſt abſurd, modes of worſhip the
moſt ſenſeleſs, and practices the moſt .
ful and barbarous.
Such is the origin of almoſt all the re-
* that are known to us, and which the
| hypocriſy or the - extravagance of their in-
ventors and their proſelytes afterwards loaded
with new fables. . |
| Theſe caſts ſeized upon education, that
they might faſhion man to a more patient en-
durance of chains, embodied as it were with
his exiſtence, and extirpate che poſſibility of
His defiring to break them. But, if we would
kriow to what point, even' without the aid of
ſuperſtitious terrors, theſe inſtitutions, ſo de-
F 22 41 ſtructive
( 66 )
ſtructive to the human faculties, can extend
their baneful power, we muſt look for a mo-
ment to China; to that people who ſeem to
have preceded all others in the arts and
ſciences, only to ſee themſelves ſucceſſively
eclipſed by them all; to that people whom
the knowledge of artillery has not prevented
from being conquered by barbarous nations ;
where the ſciences, of which the numerous
| ſchools are open to every claſs of citizens,
alone lead to dignities, and at the ſame time,
fettered by abſurd prejudices, are condemned
to an eternal mediocrity ; laſtly, where even
the invention of printing has remained an in-
ſtrument totally uſeleſs in nn the pro-
greſs of the human mind.
Men, whoſe intereſt it was to deceive, ſoon
felt a diflike to the purſuit of truth. Content
with the docility of the people, they con-
ceived there was no need of further means to
ſecure its continuance. By degrees they for-
got a part of the truths concealed under their
allegories ; they preſerved no more of their
ancient ſcience than was ſtrictly neceſſary to
maintain the confidence of their diſciples; and
at laſt they became themſelves che 1228 of
their own fables.
Then
t
Then was all progreſs of the ſciences at a
ſtand; ſome even of thoſe which had been
enjoyed by preceding ages, were loſt to the
generations that followed; and the human
mind, a prey to ignorance abs prejudice, was
condemned, in thoſe vaſt empires, to a ſhame-
ful ſtagnation, of which the uniform and un-
varied continuance has ſo long been a diſ-
honour to Aſia.
The people who inhabit theſe countries are
the only inſtance that is to be met with of
ſuch civilization and ſuch decline. Thoſe who
occupy the reſt of the globe either have been
ſtopped in their career, and exhibit an ap-
pearance that again brings to our memory the
infant days of the human race; or they have
been hurried by events through' the periods
of which we have fall to illuſtrate _
hiſtory. | 5
At the epoch we are | conffderikg; theſe
very people of Aſia had invented alphabetical
writing, which they ſubſtituted in the place
of hieroglyphics, probably after having em-
ployed that other mode, in which conventional
ſigns are affixed to every idea, which is the
only one that the Chineſe are at preſent ac-
quainted with.
a Hiſtory
*
$
|
|
= |
'
668)
Hiſtory and reflection may throw "4
light upon the manner in which the gradual |
tranſition from hieroglyphics to this inter-
mediary ſort of art, muſt have taken place;
but nothing can inform us with preciſion
either in what country, or at what time,
alphabetical ARE was firſt "ey into
uſe.
The diſcovery was in time introduced into
Greece, among a people who have exerciſed
ſo powerful and happy an influence on the
progreſs of the human ſpecies, whoſe genius
has opened all the avenues to truth, whom
nature had prepared, whom fate had deſtined
to be the benefactor and guide of all nations
and all ages: an honour in which no other
people has hitherto ſhared. One only nation
has ſince dared to entertain the hope of pre-
ſiding in a revolution new in the deſtiny of
| mankind... And this glory both nature and
a concurrence of events ſeem to agree in re-
ſerving for her. But let us not ſeek to. pene-
trate what an UAC . as * con-
ceals from us.
FOURTEH
( 69 )
FOURTH EPOCH.
Progreſs of the Human Mind in Greece, till
the Diviſion of the Sciences about te Age
of Alexander,
Tas Greeks, diſguſted with thoſe kings,
who, calling themſelves the children of the
Gods, diſgraced humanity by their paſſions
and crimes, became divided into republics, of
which Lacedemonia was the only one that
acknowledged hereditary chiefs: but theſe
chiefs were kept in awe by other magiſtracies,
were ſubjected, like citizens, to the laws, and
were weakened by the diviſion of royalty be-
tween the two branches of the family of the
Heraclides.
The inhabitants of We of Theſſaly,
and of Epirus, allied to the Greeks by a
common origin and the uſe of a ſimilar lan-
guage, and governed by princes weak, and
divided among themſelves, though unable to
oppreſs Greece, were yet ſufficient to pre-
ſerve it at the north from the incurſions of
beythian nations. 55
F q Ar
(M9 }
At the weſt, Italy, divided into ſmall and
\ unconnected ſtates, could occaſion no appre-
henſions; and already nearly the whole of
Sicily, and the moſt delightful parts of the
ſouth of Italy, were occupied by Greek colo-
nies, forming independent republics, but pre-
ſerving at the ſame time ties of filiation with
their mother countries. Other colonies were
eſtabliſhed in the iſlands of the Ægean ſea,
and upon part of the coaſts of Aſia-Minor.
_ Accordingly the union of this part of the
Aſiatic continent to the vaſt empire of Cyrus,
was in. the ſequel the only real danger that
could threaten the independence of Greece,
and the freedom of its inhabitants.
Tyranny, though more durable in ſome
colonies, and in thoſe particularly the eſta»
bliſhment of which had preceded the extirpa-
tion of the royal families, could be conſidered
only as a tranſient and partial evil, that in-
flicted miſery on the inhabitants of a few
towns, but without influencing | the general
ſpirit of the nation. :
The Greeks had derived. from the eaſtern
nations their arts, a part of their information,
the uſe of alphabetical writing, and their ſyſ-
1 5 tem
C 7% 3
tem of religion: but it was in conſequence of
the intercourſe eſtabliſhed between herſelf and
theſe nations by exiles, who ſought an aſy-
tum in Greece, and by Greek travellers, who
brought back with them from the Eaft know-
ledge and errors.
Ĩ be ſciences, therefore, could'not become
in this country the occupation and patrimony
of an individual caſt. The functions of the
prieſts were confined to the worſhip of the
Gods. Genius might diſplay all its energies,
without being fettered by the pedantic ob-
ſervances, the ſyſtematic hypocriſy of a ſa-
cerdotal college. All men poſſeſſed an equal
right to the knowledge of truth. All might
| engage in the purſuit of it, and communicate
it to all, not in ſcraps and parcels, but in its
whole extent. |
This fortunate circumſtance, ſtill more
than Political freedom, wrought in the hu-
man mind, among the Greeks, an independ-
_ ance, the ſureſt pledge of the rapidity and |
greatneſs of its future progreſs,
In the mean time their learned men, their
fages, as they were called, but who ſoon
took the more modeſt appellation of philoſo-
F 4 phers,
1
phers, or friends of ſcience and wiſdom, wan-
dered in the immenſity of the too vaſt and
comprehenſive plan which they had embraced.
They were deſirous of penetrating both the na-
ture of man, and that of the Gods; the origin
of the world, as well as of the human race.
They endeavoured to reduce all nature to one
principle only, and the phenomena of the
univerſe to one law. They attempted to in-
clude, in a ſingle rule of conduct, all the du-
ties of morality, and the Ferret of true 2
neſs.
« Thus, inſtead of A — they
forged ſyſtems ; they neglected the obſerva-
tion of facts, to purſue the chimeras of their
imagination; and being no longer able to
ſupport their opinions with proofs, they
fought to defend them by ſubtleties.
Geometry and aſtronomy, however, were
rated with ſucceſs by theſe men. Greece
bl
I
|
!
U
0
j
N
j
— |
|
1
1
|
|
i
SS „ „
ences, and even ſome ae or at leaſt
the knowledge of ſuch as they had brou ght
with them, from the Eaſt, not as eſtabliſhed
creeds, but as theories, of which woke aer
en the principles and —
We
DA
(73)
We even perceive, in the midſt of the
_ darkneſs of thoſe ſyſtems, two happy ideas
beam forth, which will again make their ”
pearance in more enlightened: ages.
Demoeritus conſidered all the Saane
of the univerſe as the reſult of the combina-
tions and motion of ſimple bodies, of a fixed
and unalterable form, having received an ori-
ginal impulſe, and thence derived a quantity
of action that undergoes modiſications in the
individual atoms, but that in the entire maſa
continues always the ſame.
Pythagoras was of opinion that this un
verſe was governed by a harmony, the prine
ciples of which were to be unfolded” by the
properties of numbers; that is, that the whole
phenomena of nature depended upon general
laws capable of being aſcertained, by e
tion.
In theſe two dorings we realty perceive
the bold ſyſtems of Deſcartes, 4 the *
ſophy of Newton. .
. Pythagoras either . by his own
meditation, or learned from the prieſts of
Egypt or of Italy, the actual diſpoſition of
the heavenly bodies, and the true ſyſtem of the
world,
„
—
n
world. This he communicated to the Greeks.
But the ſyſtem was too much at variance
with the teſtimony of the ſenſes, too oppoſite
to the vulgar opinions, for the feeble proofs
by which it could then be ſupported to gain
much hold upon the mind. Accordingly it
was confined to the Pythagorean ſchool, and
afterwards forgotten with that ſchool, again
to appear at the cloſe of the ſixteenth century,
ſtrengthened with more certain proofs, by
which it now triumphed not only over the
repugnance of the ſenſes, but over the pre-
judices of ſuperſtition, ſtill more powerful
and dangerous.
The Pythagorean ſchool was chiefly pre-
valent in Upper Greece, where it formed
legiſlators, and intrepid defenders of the rights
of mankind, It fell under the power of the
tyrants, one of whom burnt the Pythago-
reans in their own ſehool. This was ſufh-
cient, no doubt, to induce them not to abjure
philoſophy, not to abandon the eauſe of the
people, but to bear no Jonger a name become
ſo dangerous, or obſerve forms that would
| ſerve only to wake the lion rage of the ene·
mies of liberty and of reaſon.
A
fax. 1
A grand baſis. of every kind of ſound phi-
| loſophy is to form for each ſcience a preciſe
and accurate language, every term of which
ſhall repreſent an idea exactly determined and
circumſcribed ; and to enable ourſelves to de-
termine and circumſcribe the ideas with which
the ſcience may be converſant, by the A of
a rigorous analyſis, |
The Greeks on the contrary took ation
of the corruptions of their common language
to play upon the meaning of words, to em-
barraſs the mind by contemptible equivoques,
and lead it aſtray by expreſling ſueceſſively
different ideas by the ſame fign : a practice
which gave acuteneſs to the mind, at the
fame time that it weakened its ſtrength againſt
chimerical difficulties. Thus this philoſophy
of words, by filling up the ſpaces where
human reaſon ſeems to ſtop before ſome ob-
ſtacle above its ſtrength, did not affiſt imme-
diately its progreſs and advancement, but it
prepared the way for them ; as we ſhall ave
farther occaſion to , e |
The courſe of philoſophy was ſtopped how
its firſt introduction by an error at that time
indeed excuſable. This was the fixing the
a attention
8 (756)
attention upon queſtions. incapable perhaps
for ever of being ſolved ; ſuffering the
mind to be led away by the importance or
ſublimity of objects, without thinking whether
the means exiſted of compaſſing them; wiſh-
ing to eſtabliſh theories, before facts had been
collected, and to frame the univerſe, before
it was yet known how to ſurvey it. Ac-
- eordingly we fee Socrates, while he combated
the ſophiſts and expoſed their vain ſubtleties
to ridicule, crying to the Greeks to recal to
the earth this philoſophy which had loſt. it-
ſelf in the clouds. Not that he deſpiſed
either aſtronomy, or geometry, or the ob-
ſervation of the phenomena of nature ; not
that he entertained the puerile and falſe idea
of reducing the human mind to the ſtudy of
morality alone: on the contrary, it was to
his ſchool and his diſciples that the mathema-
tical and phylical ſciences were indebted for
their progreſs ; in the ridicule attempted to
be thrown upon him in theatrical repreſen- i
tations, the reproach which afforded moſt
pleaſantry was that of his Cultivating geo-
metry, ſtudying meteors, drawing geogra-
hs charts, and making experiments upon
burning.
; n 1 85
| burning-glaſſes, of which, it is pleaſant to
remark, the earlieſt mention that has been
tranſmitted to us, we owe to a — |
of Ariſtophanes.
Socrates merely wiſhed by his avid to
induce men to confine themſelves to objects
which nature has placed within their reach ;
to be ſure of every ſtep already taken before
they attempted any new one, and to ſtudy the
ſpace that ſurrounded them, before they pre-
cipitated themſelves at random into an un-
known ſpace. ;
The death of this man is an important
event in the hiſtory of the human mind. It is
the firſt crime that the war between philoſo-
phy and en conceived and brought
forth.
The baraien of the F ſchool
had already ſignalized the war, not leſs an-
cient, not leſs eager, of the oppreſſors of
mankind againſt philoſophy. The one and
the other will continue to be waged as long
as there ſhall exiſt t prieſts or kings upon the
earth; and theſe wars will occupy a conſpi- £
cuous place i in the picture that we have ſtill
to delineate. 79 9%
| Prieſts
— . — nn ks *
—— —
— .
Q 4
— ng; ——
—— ——— —
(38)
Prieſts ſaw with grief the appearance of
men, who, cultivating the powers of reaſon,
aſcending to firſt principles, could not but
diſcover all the abſurdity of their dogmas, all
the extravagance of their ceremonies, all the
deluſton and fraud of their oracles and pro-
digies. This diſcovery they were afraid theſe
philoſophers would communicate to the diſci-
ples that frequented their ſchools ; from whom
it might paſs to all thoſe who, to obtain autho-
Tity or credit, were obliged to pay attention |
to the improvement of their minds; and thus
the prieſtly empire be reduced to the moſt ig-
norant claſs of the people, which might at
laſt be itſelf alſo undeceived.
| Hypocriſy, alarmed and terrified, haſtened
to bring accuſations, againſt the philoſophers,
of impiety to the Gods, that they might not
have time to teach the people that thoſe Gods
were the work of their prieſts. The philo-
ſophers thought to eſcape perſecution by
adopting, in imitation of the prieſts them-
ſelves, the practice of a double doctrine, and
they confided to ſuch of their diſciples only
whoſe fidelity had been proved, doctrines that
too openly offended vulgar prejudices.
7 But
4
But the prieſts repreſented to the people
the moſt ſimple truths of natural philoſophy
as blaſphemies; and Anaxagoras was proſe-
cuted for having dared to aſſert, that the ſun
was larger than Peloponneſus. |
Socrates could not eſcape their fury. There
was in Athens no longer a Pericles to watch
over the ſafety of genius and of virtue. Be-
ſides, Socrates was ſtill more culpable. His
enmity to the ſophiſts, and his zeal to bring
back the attention of miſguided philoſophy
to the moſt uſeful objects, announced to the
prieſts that truth alone was the end he had in
view ; that he did not wiſh to enforce upon,
men a new ſyſtem, and ſubject their imagi-
nation to his; but that he was defirous of
teaching them to make uſe of their own rea-
ſon : and of all crimes this is what ſacerdo-
tal pride knows leaſt how to pardon.
It was at the very foot of the tomb of So-
crates that Plato dictated the leſſons which
he had received from his maſter. 7.3.3
His enchanting ſtile, his brilliant OY
tion, the cheerful or ' dignified colouring, the
ingenious and happy traits, that, in his dia-
2 diſpel the dryneſs of philoſophical
diſcuſſion ;
2
— SIE ts cent
—— — —— 4
— —— —— OE TT
( 8 )
diſcuſſion; the maxims of a mild and pure
morality which he knew how to infuſe into
them; the art with wlich he brings his per-
8 into action, and preſerves to each his
diſtinct character; all thoſe beauties, which
time and the revolutions of opinion have
been unable to tarniſh, muſt doubtleſs have
obtained a favourable reception for the viſion-
ary ideas that too often form the baſis' of- his
works, and that abuſe of words which his
maſter had ſo much cenſured in the ſophiſts,
but from which he could not * the firſt
of his diſciples.
In reading theſe dialogues we are aſtoniſhed
at their being the production of a philoſopher
who, by an inſcription placed on the door of
his ſchool, forbad the entrance of any one
who had not ſtudied geometry ; and that he,
who maintains with ſuch confidence ſyſtems
ſo far fetched and ſo frivolous, ſhould have
been the founder of a ſet by whom, for the
firſt time, the foundations of the certainty of
human knowledge were ſubjected to a ſevere
examination, and even others-made to trem-
ble that'a more EI reaſon might have
* to reſpect. ene!
But
n
56
But the contradiction diſappears when we
conſider that in his dialogues Plato never ſpeaks
in his own perſon ; that Socrates, his maſter,
is made to expreſs himſelf with the modeſty of
doubt ; that the ſyſtems are exhibited in the
names of thoſe who were, or whom Plato
ſuppoſed to be, the authors of them ; that
hereby. theſe dialogues are a ſchool of pyrrho-
niſm, and that Plato has known how to diſ-
play in them at once the adventurous imagi-
nation of a learned man, amuſing himſelf
with combining and diſſecting ſplendid hypo-
theſes, and the reſerve of a philoſopher, giving
ſcope to his fancy, but without ſuffering him-
ſelf to be hurried away by it ; becauſe his
reaſon, armed with a ſalutary doubt, had
wherewithal to defend itſelf againſt illuſions,
however ſeducing might be their charms.
The ſchools, in which were perpetuated
the doctrine, and eſpecially the principles and
forms of a firſt inſtitutor, to which however
the reſpective ſucceſſors by no means obſerved
a ſervile adherence, theſe ſchools poſſeſſed
the advantage of uniting together, by the
ties of a liberal fraternity, men intent upon
penetrating the ſecrets of nature. If the opi-
G nion
— 5 — 9 A
* $149") 22 OP wane Pn ALI Bnt "CP" CAREDDR "pts. na 2 *
4
nion of the maſter had frequently an influence
in them that ought to belong only to the
province of reaſon, and the progreſs of know-
ledge was thereby ſuſpended ; yet did they
ſtill more contribute to its ſpeedy and exten-
ſive propagation, at a time when, printing
being unknown, and manuſcripts exceedingly
rare, theſe inſtitutions, the fame of which at-
tracted pupils from every part of Greece,
were the only powerful-means of cheriſhing
in that country a taſte for philoſophy, and
of diſleminating new truths.
The rival ſchools contended with a degree
of animoſity that produced a ſpirit of party
or ſect; and not ſeldom was the intereſt of
truth ſacrificed to the ſucceſs of fome tenet,
in which every member of the ſe& conſidered
his pride in a manner as concerned. The per-
ſonal paſſion of making converts corrupted
the more generous one of enlightening man-
kind. But at the ſame time, this rivalſhip
kept the mind in a ſtate of activity that was
not without its uſe. The continual fight of
ſuch diſputes, the intereft that was taken in
theſe combats of opinion, awakened and at-
tached to the ſtudy of philoſophy a multitude
4
of men, whom the mere love of truth could
neither have allured from their buſineſs and
pleaſure, nor even have rouſed from their
indolence.
In ſhort, as theſe ſchools, theſe ſects, which
the Greeks had the wiſdom never to intro-
duce into the public inſtitutions, remained
perfectly free; as every one had the power
of opening another ſchool, or forming a new
ſect, at his pleaſure, there was no cauſe to
apprehend that abaſement of reaſon, which,
with the majority of other nations, was an
inſurmountable obſtacle to the advancement
of the human mind. |
Let us conſider what was the influence of
the philoſophers of Greece on the under-
ſtanding, manners, laws and governments of
that country ; an influence that muſtbe aſcribed
in great meaſure to their not having, and
even not wiſhing to have, a political exiſt-
ence ; to its being held as a rule of conduct
common to almoſt all their ſets, voluntarily
to keep aloof from public affairs; and laſtly,
to their affecting to diſtinguiſh themſelves
from other men by their lives, as well as
their opinions,
G 2 | In
— r —r̃—k—x—— ͤ’4Ä— —————— ü AA
684 )
In delineating theſe different ſets, we ſhall
attend leſs to the ſyſtems, and more to the
principles of their philoſophy ; we ſhall not
attempt, as has frequently been done, to ex-
hibit a preciſe view of the abſurd doctrines
which a language become almoſt unintelli-
gible conceals from us; but ſhall endeavour.
to ſhew by what general errors they were ſe-
duced into thoſe deceitful paths, and to find
the origin of theſe in the. natural courſe of
the human mind.
Above all things we ſhall be . to diſ-
play the progreſs of thoſe ſciences that really
deſerved the appellation, and the ſucceſſive
improvements that were introduced into them.
Act this epoch philoſophy embraced them
all, medicine excepted, which was already
feparated from it. The writings of Hippo-
crates will ſhew us what was at that period
the ſtate of this ſcience, as well as of thoſe
naturally connected with it, but which had
yet no exiſtence diſtin& from that connec-
tion. |
The mathematical ſciences had 3 eulti-
vated with ſucceſs in the ſchools of Thales
and of Pythagoras. Meanwhile they roſe
1 thera
183
there very little above the point at which they
had ſtopped in the ſacerdotal colleges of the
eaſtern nations. But from the birth of Plato's
Iſchool they ſoared infinitely above that bar-
Tier, which the idea.of confining them to an
immediate utility and practice had erected.
This philoſopher was the firſt who ſolved
the problem of the duplication of the cube, by
the hypotheſis, indeed, of a continued mo-
tion; but the proceſs was ingenious, and
ſtrictly accurate. His early diſciples diſco-
vered the conic ſections, and demonſtrated
their principal properties; thereby opening
upon the human mind that vaſt horiſon o
knowledge, where, as long as the world
Shall endure, it may exerciſe its powers with-
out ceaſing, while at every ſtep the horiſon
retires as the mind advances.
The ſciences connected with politics dil
not derive from philoſophy alone their pro-
greſs among the Greeks. In theſe {ſmall re-
publics, jealous of preſerving both their in-
dependence and their liberty, the practice was
almoſt generally prevalent of confiding to one
man, not the power of making laws, but
che function of digeſting and preſenting them
9 .
6860)
to the people, by whom they were examined,
and from whom * received their direct
ſanction.
Thus the people impoſed a taſk on the
philoſopher, whoſe wiſdom or whoſe virtues
had recommended him to their confidence,
but they conferred on him no authority :
they exerciſed alone and of themſelves what
we have ſince called by the name of legiſla-
tive power. But the practice, ſo fatal, of
calling ſuperſtition to the aid of political in-
ſtitutions, has too often corrupted the exe-
cution of an idea ſo admirably fitted to give
that ſyſtematic unity to the laws of a country
which alone can render their operation ſure
and eaſy, as well as maintain the duration of
them, Nor had politics yet acquired prin-
ciples ſufficiently invariable not to fear that
the legiſlators might introduce into theſe in-
ſtitutions their prejudices and their paſſions.
Their object could not be, as yet, to found
upon the bafis of reaſon, upon the rights
which all men have equally received from
nature, upon the maxims of univerſal juſtice,
the ſuperſtructure of a ſociety of men equal
and tree ; ; but ny to eſtabliſh laws by
ayhich
( 7 ) =
Which the hereditary members of a ſociety,
already exiſting, might preſerve their liberty,
live ſecure from injuſtice, and, by exhibiting
an impoſing appearance to their neighbours,
continue in the enjoyment of their Ws
ence.
As it was ſuppoſed that theſe wk almoſt
_ univerſally connected with religion, and con-
ſecrated by oaths, were to endure for ever,
it was leſs an object of attention to ſecure to
a people the means of effecting, in a peace-
able manner, their reform, than to guard from
every poſſible change ſuch as were fundamen-
tal, and to take care that the reforms of de-
tail neither incroached upon the 3 nor
corrupted the ſpirit of them.
Such inſtitutions were ſought for as were
calculated to cheriſh and give energy to the
love of country, in which was included a
love of its legiflation and even uſages; ſuch
an organization of powers, as would ſecure
the execution of the laws againſt the negli-
gence or corruption of magiſtrates, and the
reſtleſs diſpoſition of the multitude.
The rich, who alone were in a capacity
12 acquiring knowledge, by ſeizing on the
63 reins
( 88 }
reins of authority might oppreſs the poor,
and compel them to throw themſelves into
the arms of a tyrant. The ignorance and
fickleneſs of the people, and its jealouſy of
powerful citizens, might ſuggeſt to ſuch citi-
zens both the defire and the means of eſta-
bliſhing ariſtocratic deſpotiſm, or of ſurren-
dering an enfeebled ſtate to the ambition of its
neighbours. Obliged to guard at once againſt
both theſe rocks, the Greek legiſlators had
recourſe to combinations more or leſs happy,
but always bearing the ſtamp of this ſagacity,
this artifice, which accordingly characteriſed
the general ſpirit of the nation. |
It would be difficult to find in modern re-
publics, or even in the plans ſketched by phi-
loſophers, a ſingle inſtitution of which the
Greek republics did not ſuggeſt the outlines,
or furniſh the example. For, in the Am-
phictyonic league, as well as in that of the
Etolians, Arcadians, Achæans, we have in-
ſtances of federal conſtitutions, of a union
more or leſs cloſe; and there were eſtabliſhed
a leſs barbarous right of nations, and more
liberal rules of commerce between theſe dif-
ferent people, connected by a common ori-
3 |
( 89 )
gin, by the uſe of the ſame language, and by
a ſimilarity of manners, opinions and religious
perſuaſions. |
The mutual relations of agriculture, in-
duſtry and commerce, with the laws and con-
ſtitution of a ſtate, their influence upon its
proſperity, power, freedom, could not have
eſcaped the obſervation of a people ingenious
and active, and at the ſame time watchful of
the public intereſt: and accordingly among
them are perceived the firſt traces of that
ſcience, ſo comprehenſive and uſeful, known
at preſent by the name of political economy.
The obſervation alone of eſtabliſhed go-
vernments was therefore ſufficient ſpeedily to -
convert politics into an extenſive ſcience,
Thus in the writings even of the philoſo-
phers, it is a ſcience rather of facts, and, if I
may ſo ſpeak, empirical, than a true theory
founded upon general principles, drawn from
nature, and acknowledged by reaſon. Such
is the point of view in which we ought to
regard the political ideas of Ariſtotle and
Plato, if we would diſcover their meaning,
ny form of them a juſt eſtimate.
Almoſt
690)
Almoſt all the Greek inſtitutions ſuppoſe
the exiſtence of ſlavery, and the poſſibility
of uniting together, in a public place, the
whole community of citizens : two moſt im-
portant diſtinctions, of which we ought never
to loſe tight, if we would judge rightly of the
effect of thoſe inſtitutions, particularly on the
extenſive and populous nations of modern times,
But upon the firſt we cannot reflect without
the painful idea, that at that period the moſt
perfect forms of government had for object
the liberty or happineſs of at moſt but half
the human ſpecies. Ss
With the Greeks, education was an im-
portant part of polity. Men were formed for
their country, much more than for them-
ſelves, or their family. This principle can
only be embraced by communities little po-
pulous, in which it is more pardonable to ſup-
poſe a national intereſt, ſeparate from the
common intereſt of humanity. It is practi- :
cable only in countries where the moſt painful
labours of culture and of the arts are per-
formed by ſlaves. This branch of education
was reſtricted almoſt entirely to ſuch bodily
exerciſes, ſuch manners and habits as were
2 calcu-
691
calculated to excite an excluſive patriotiſm:
the other branches were acquired, as a mat-
ter of free choice, in the ſchools of the phi-
loſophers or rhetoricians, and the ſhops of the
artiſts; and this freedom was a farther cauſe
of the ſuperiority of the Greeks.
In their polity, as in their philoſophy, a
general principle is obſervable, to which hiſ-
tory ſcarcely furniſhes any exceptions: they
aimed leſs in their laws at extirpating the
cauſes of an evil, than deſtroying its effects,
by oppoſing theſe cauſes one to another;
they wiſhed rather to take advantage of pre-
judices and vices, than to diſperſe or ſuppreſs
them; they attended more frequently to the
means by which to deform and brutalize
man, to inflame, to miſlead his ſenſibility,
than to refine and purify the inclinations and
deſires which are the neceſſary reſult of his
moral conſtitution : errors occaſioned by the
more general one of miſtaking for the man of
nature, him who exhibited in his character
the actual ſtate of civilization, that is to
ſay, man corrupted by prejudices, by the in-
tereſt of factitious paſſions, and by ſocial has
bits.
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This obſervation is of the more import-
ance, and it will be the more neceſſary to
develope its origin, in order the better to de-
ſtroy it, as it has been tranſmitted to our own
age, and {till too often corrupts both our mo-
tals and our politics.
If we compare the eoillation, and parti-
| evlarly the form and rules of judicature in
the Greek, or in the eaſtern nations, we ſhall _
find that, in ſome, the laws are a yoke to
which force has bowed: the necks of ſlaves ;
In others, the conditions of a common com-
pact between the members of the ſociety. In
ſome the object of legal forms is, that the
will of the maſter be executed; in others that
the liberty of the citizens be not oppreſfed. In
ſome the law is made for the party that im-
poſes it; in others for the party that is to
ſubmit to it. In ſome the fear of the law is
enforced, in others the love of it inculcated.
And theſe diſtinctions we alſo find in modern
nations, between the laws of a free people,
and thoſe of a country of ſlaves. In Greece
we ſhall find that man poſſeſſed ar leaſt a
conſciouſneſs of his rights, if he did not yet
know — if he could not fathom the na-
ture,
(WW)
ture, and embrace and circumſcribe the ex-
tent of them.
At this epoch, of ths firſt dawn of philo-
fophy and firſt advance of the ſciences among;
the Greeks, the fine arts roſe to. a degree of
perfection known at that time to no other
people, and ſcarcely equalled ſince by almoſt
any nation. Homer lived at the period of
thoſe diſſentions which accompanied the fall
of the tyrants, and the formation of re-
publics. Sophocles, Euripides, Pindar, Thu-
cydides, Demoſthenes, Phidias, Apelles, were
the contemporaries of Socrates or of Plato.
We ſhall give a delineation. of the progreſs
of thofe arts; we ſhall enquire into its cauſes ;
we ſhall diſtinguiſh between what may be
conſidered as a perfection of the art itſelf,
and what is to be aſcribed only to the happy
genius of the artiſt : a diſtinction calculated to
deſtroy thoſe narrow limits to which the im-
: provement of the fine arts has been reſtricted.
Me ſhall explain the influence that forms of
government, ſyſtems of legiſlation, and the
ſpirit of religious obſervances have exerciſed
on their progreſs, and ſhall examine what
they have derived from the advances of phi-
W
9 ů —
Derr r
TW 7
toſophy, and what philoſophy itſelf has 45
rived from them. ;
We ſhall ſhew that liberty, arts, know-
ledge, have contributed to the ſuavity and
melioration of manners; that the vices of the
Greeks, ſo often aſcribed to their civilization,
were thoſe of ruder ages, and which the ac-
quirements we have mentioned have in all
inſtances qualified, when they have proved
unable to extirpate them. We ſhall demon-
ſtrate that the eloquent declamations which
have been made againſt the arts and ſciences,
are founded upon a miſtaken application of
hiſtory ; and that, on the contrary, the pro-
greſs of virtue has ever accompanied that of
knowledge, as the progreſs of corruption has
always followed or announced its decline.
-— FALL
9 }
FIFTH EPOCH.
Progreſs of the Sciences, from their Divjon to
their Decline.
| P LAT O was ſtill living when Ariſtotle, his
diſciple, opened, in Athens itſelf, a ſchool, the
rival of that of his maſter.
* He not only embraced all the ſciences, but
applied the method obſerved in philoſophy to
the arts of eloquence and poetry. He was
the firſt whoſe daring genius conceived the
propriety of extending this method to every
thing attainable by human intelligence ; fince,
as this intelligence exerciſed in all caſes the
ſame faculties, it ought invariably to be
governed by the fame laws.
The more comprehenſive was the plan he
formed, the more he felt the neceflity of
ſeparating the different parts of it, and of
fixing with greater preciſion the limits of
each. And from this epoch the majority
of philoſophers, and even whole ſects, are
N feen
( 96 )
ſeen confining their attention to ſome only
of thoſe parts. '.
The mathematical and phyſical ſciences
formed of themſelves a grand diviſion. As
they were founded upon calculation and the
| obſervance of the phenomena of nature, as
what they taught was independent of the
opinions which embroiled the ſecs, they ſe-
parated themſelves from philoſophy, over
which theſe ſects ſtill reigned. They accord-
ingly became the ſtudy of the learned, who
had the wiſdom almoſt univerſally to keep
| aloof from the diſputes of the ſchools, which
were conducted in a manner calculated rather
to promote the tranſient fame of the pro-
feſſors, than aid the progreſs of philoſophy
itſelf. And ſoon this word ceaſed to be em-
ployed, except for the purpoſe of expreſſing
the general principles of the ſyſtem of the
world, metaphyſics, logic, and morals, of
which the ſcience of politics formed a part.
Fortunately the era of this diviſion pre-
ceded the period in which Greece, after long
ſtruggles, was deſtined to loſe her freedom.
The ſciences found, in the capital of Egypt,
an aſylum, which, by the deſpots who go-
verned
la).
verned it, would probably have been refuſed
to philoſophy. But as the princes derived no
inconſiderable portion of their riches and
| power from the united commerce of the Medi-
terranean and Aſiatic ſeas, it was their intereſt
to encourage ſciences uſeful to navigation and.
commerce.
Accordingly, they eſcaped the ſeedy FR
cline that was ſoon experienced by philo-
ſophy, the ſplendour of which vaniſhed with
the departure of liberty. The tyranny of the
Romans, ſo regardleſs of the progreſs of
knowledge, did not extend to Egypt till a late
period, and when the town of Alexandria was
become neceſſary to the ſubſiſtance of Rome.
By its population, its wealth, the great influx
of ſtrangers, the eſtabliſhments formed by the
Ptolemies, and which the conquerors did not
give themſelves the trouble to deſtroy, this
town, the centre of commerce, and already
poſſeſſing wherewith to be the metropolis of
the ſciences, was ſufficient of itſelf to the 8
ſervation of their ſacred flame.
The ſect of Academics, in which, from its
origin, the mathematics had been cultivated,
and which confined its philoſophical inſtrue-
Wt Wo tion
698)
tion almoſt entirely to proving the utility of
doubt, and aſcertaining the narrow limits of
certainty, muſt of courſe have been a ſect of
men of learning; and as the doctrine had no-
thing in it calculated to give alarm to deſpots,
it flouriſhed in the ſchool of Alexandria.
The theory of conic ſections, with the
method of employing it, whether for the
donſtructing of geometrical loci, or for the
ſolution of problems, and the diſcovery of
ſome other curves, extended the limits, hi-
therto ſo narrow, of the ſcience of geometry.
Archimedes diſcovered the quadrature of
the parabola, and meaſured the ſurface of the
ſphere. Theſe were the firſt advances in the
5 theory of limits which determines the ulti-
mate value of a quantity, or, in other words,
the value to which the quantity in an infinite
progreſſion inceſſantly approaches, but never
attains; that theory which teaches how to
determine the ratios of evaneſcent quantities,
and by other proceſſes to deduce from theſe
ratios the propoſitions of finite magnitudes;
in a word, that very calculus which the
moderns, with more pride than juſtice, have
termed tlie calculus of infinities. It was Ar-
| chimedes |
*
( 99 )
chimedes who firſt determined the proportion
of the diameter of a circle to its circum-
ference in numbers nearly true; who taught
us how to obtain values approaching nearer
and nearer to accuracy, and made known the
methods of approximation, that happy re-
medy for the defects of the known methods,
and frequently of the ſcience itſelf.
He may, in ſome reſpect, be conſidered as
the father of rational or theoretical mechanics.
To him we are indebted for the theory of the
lever, as well as the diſcovery of that principle
of hydroſtatics, that a body immerſed in any
fluid, loſes a portion of its weight equal to the
maſs of fluid it has diſplaced,
The ſcrew that bears his name, his burning
glaſſes, the prodigies of the ſiege of Syracuſe,
atteſt his ſkill in the art of conſtructing me-
chanical inſtruments, which the learned had
neglected, becauſe the principles of the theory
at that time known were inadequate to the
attainment. Theſe grand diſcoveries, theſe
new ſciences, place Archimedes among thoſe
happy geniuſes whoſe life forms an epoch in
the hiſtory of man, and whoſe exiſtence may
be conſidered as one of the munificent gifts of
* 7
Ws | e
nature.
1
It is in the ſchool of Alexandria that we
find the firſt traces of algebra; that 1s to ſay,
of the calculation of quantities conſidered
ſimply as ſuch. The nature of the problems
propoſed and reſolved in the work of Dio-
phantus, made it neceſſary that numbers
ſhould be conſidered as having a general value,
undetermined in their particular relations, and
ſubject only to certain conditions. .
But this ſcience had not then, as at preſent,
its appropriate ſigns, methods and technical
operations. The general value of quantities
was repreſented by words; and it was only
by means of a ſeries of reaſonings that the
ſolution of problems was diſcovered and de-
veloped. |
The obſervations of the Chaldeans, tranſ-
mitted to Ariſtotle by Alexander, accelerated
the progreſs of aſtronomy, The moſt bril-
liant portion of them was due to the genius
of Hipparchus. And if, after him in aſtro-
nomy, as after Archimedes in geometry and
mechanics, we no longer perceive thoſe diſ-
coveries and acquiſitions which change, as it
were, the whole face of a ſcience, they yet
for a long time continued to improve, ex-
pand,
G
pand, and enrich themſelves by the truths of
detail. tp
In his hiſtory of animals, Ariſtotle had |
laid down the principles and furniſhed an
excellent model for obſerving with accuracy,
and deſcribing according to ſyſtem, the ob-
jects of nature, as well as for claſſing thoſe
obſervations, and catching with readineſs the
general reſults which they exhibited. The
hiſtory of plants and of minerals were treated
afterwards by others, but with inferior pre-
ciſion, and with views leſs extenſive and leſs
philoſophical,
The progreſs of anatomy was very flow,
not only becauſe religious prejudices would
not admit of the diſſection of dead bodies,
but from the vulgar opinion which regarded
the touch of ſuch bodies as a ſort of moral
defilement.
The medical Tyler of Hippocrates was
nothing more than a ſcience of obſervation,
which as yet had led only to empirical me-
thods. The ſpirit of ſect, and the love of hy-
pothetical poſitions ſoon infected it. But if
the number of errors was greater than that of
pew FR if the prejudices or ſyſtems of the
A3 prac-
( 102 )
practitioners did more harm than their ob-
ſervations were calculated to do good, yet it
cannot be denied that the ſcience made,
during this epoch, a real, though very ſlight
progreſs. |
Ariſtotle introduced into natural philoſophy
neither the accuracy nor the prudent reſerve
which characteriſe his hiſtory of animals.
He paid tribute to the cuſtoms of his age, to
the taſte of the ſchools, by disfiguring it with
thoſe hypothetical data, which, from their
vague nature, explain every thing with a ſort
of readineſs, becauſe they are able to explain
nothing with preciſion.
Beſides, obſervation alone was not enough
experiments were neceſſary : theſe demanded
. Inſtruments ; and it appears that at that time
men had not ſufficiently collected facts, had
not examined them with the proper minute-
neſs, to feel the want, to conceive the idea
of this mode of interrogating nature, and
obliging her to anſwer us.
At this epoch alſo, the hiſtory of the pro-
greſs of natural philoſophy is confined to a
{mall number of truths, acquired by chance,
and derived from obſervations furniſhed hy
the
(„„
the practice of the arts, rather than from the
reſearches of the learned. Hydraulics, and
eſpecially optics, preſent us with a harveſt
| ſomewhat leſs ſterile; but theſe alſo conſiſt
rather of facts, which were remarked becauſe
they fell in the way and forced attention, than
of theories or phyſical laws diſcovered by Pu
experiments, or obtained by meditation and
A .
Agriculture had hitherto been confined to
the ſimple routine and a few regulations, which
prieſts, in tranſmitting them to the people,
had corrupted with their ſuperſtition, It be-
came with the Greeks, and ſtill more with
the Romans, an important and reſpected art;
and men of greateſt learning employed them-
ſelves in collecting its uſages and precepts.
Theſe collections of facts, preciſely deſcribed
and judiciouſly arranged, were uſeful to en-
lighten the practical cultivator, and to extend
ſuch methods as had proved valuable; but
the age of experiment and regular deduction
Was ſtill very far off, ;
The mechanic arts began to connect them-
ſelves with the ſciences. Philoſophers exa-
mined the labours, ſought the origin, and
H 4 ſtudied .
A
( 104 )
ſtudied the hiſtory of theſe arts; at the ſame
time they deſcribed the proceſſes and fruits of
thoſe which were cultivated in different coun-
tries, and were induced to collect together
their obſervations, and tranſmit them to
poſterity. | | 85
Thus Pliny, in the comfiretientive plan of
nis natural hiſtory, includes man, nature and
the arts. This work 1s a valuable and com-
plete inventory of what at that time con-
ſtituted the true ſtores of the human mind:
nor can his claims to our gratitude be ſuper-
ſeded by the charge, however merited, of his
having collected with too little diſcrimination
and too much credulity, what the ignorance
or lying vanity of hiſtorians preſented to his
avidity, not to be ſatiated, of knowing every
thing. |
In the midſt of the decline of Greece,
Athens, which, in the days of its power, had
honoured philoſophy and letters, owed to
them, in its turn, the preſerving for a longer
period ſome remains of its ancient ſplendour.
In its tribune, indeed, the deſtinies of Greece
and Aha were no longer decided; it was,
however, 1n the ſchools of Athens that the
Romans
(105)
Romans acquired the ſecrets of eloquence;
and it was at the feet of Demoſthenes? lamp
that the firſt of their orators was formed.
The academy, the lyceum, the portico, the
gardens of Epicurus, were the nurſery and
principal ſchool of the four ſects that diſputed
the empire of philoſophy.
It was taught in the academy, that every
thing is doubtful ; that man can attain, as to
any object, neben abſolute certainty nor a
true comprehenſion; in fine, and it was '
difficult to go farther, that he could not be
ſure of this very impoſſibility of knowing
any thing, and that it was proper to doubt
even of the neceſſity of doubting.
The opinions of different philoſophers were
explained, defended and oppoſed in this
ſchool, but merely as hypotheſes calculated to
exerciſe the mind and illuſtrate more fully,
by the uncertainty which accompanied theſe
diſputes, the vanity of human knowledge
and abſurdity of the * confidence of
the other ſects.
This doctrine, if it go no fide than to
diſcountenance reaſoning upon words to
which we can affix no clear and preciſe ideas; ;
than
(11206
chan to proportion our belief in any pro-
poſition to the degree of probability it bears;
than to aſcertain, as to every ſpecies of know-
ledge, the bounds of certainty we are able to
acquire, — this ſcepticiſm is then rational; but
when it extends to demonſtrated truths; e
it attacks the principles of morality, it be-
comes either weakneſs or inſanity: and ſuch
is the extreme into which the ſophiſts have
fallen, who ſucceeded in the academy the
firſt diſciples of Plato.
We ſhall follow the ſteps of theſe ſceptics,
and exhibit the cauſe of their errors, We
ſhall examine what, in the extravagance of
their doctrine, is to be aſcribed to the paſſion,
ſo prevalent, of diſtinguiſhing themſelves by
whimfical opinions; and ſhall ſhew, that,
though ſufficiently refuted by the inſtinct of
other men, by the inſtinct which directed
theſe ſophiſts themſelves in the ordinary con-
duct of life, they were neither properly re-
futed, nor even underſtood, ** the Philo-
ſophers of the day.
Meanwhile this ſceptical mania - did not
poſſeſs the whole ſe& of academics; and the
doctrine of an eternal den, Juſt, comely,
honeſt,
( 107 )
honeſt, independent of the intereſts and con-
ventions of men, and even of their exiſtence,
an idea that, imprinted on the ſoul, becomes
the principle of duty and the law of our
actions, this doctrine, derived from the Dia-
logues of Plato, was ſtill inculcated in his
ſchool, and conſtituted the baſis of moral in-
ſtruction, ;
Ariſtotle was no better ſkilled than his
maſter in the art of analyſing ideas ; that
is, of aſcending ſtep by ſtep to the moſt
ſimple ideas that have entered into their com-
bination, of obſerving the formation of theſe
ſimple ideas themſelves, of following in theſe
operations the regular procedure of the mind,
and developement of its faculties.
His metaphyſics, like thoſe of the other
philoſophers, conſiſted of a vague doctrine,
founded ſometimes upon an abuſe of words,
and ſometimes upon mere hypotheſes.
To him, however, we owe that important
truth, that firſt ſtep in the ſcience of the
human mind, that oUR IDEAS, EVEN SUCH
AS ARE MOST ABSTRACT, MOST STRICTLY
INTELLECTUAL, ſo to ſpeak, HAVE THEIR
ORIGIN IN OUR SENSATIONS. But this
truth
C a8 3
truth he failed to ſupport by any demon-
ftration. It was rather the intuitive percep-
tion of a man of genius, than the reſult of a
ſeries of obſervations accurately analyſed,
and ſyſtematically combined, in order to de-
rive from them ſome general truth. Ac-
. cordingly, this germ, caſt in an ungrateful
ſoil, produced no uſeful fruit till after a pe-
riod of more than twenty centuries.
Ariſtotle, in his dialectics, having reduced
all demonſtrations to a train of arguments
drawn up in a ſyllogiſtical form, and then
divided all imaginable propoſitions under four
Heads, teaches us to difcover, among the
poſſible combinations of propoſitions of theſe
four claſſes in collections of three and three,
thoſe which anſwer to the nature of con-
cluſive ſyllogiſms, and may be admitted with-
out apprehenſion. In this way we may judge
of the cogency or weakneſs of an argument,
merely by knowing to what claſs it belongs ;
and thus the art of right reaſoning is ſub-
jected in fome meaſure to technical rules.
This ingenious idea has hitherto remained
uſeleſs; but perhaps it may one day become
the leading ftep towards a perfection which
the
( 109 )
the art of reaſoning and diſcuſſiog ſeems fill
to expect. be ws
Every virtue, according to Ariſtotle, is
placed between two vices, of which one is its
defect, and the other its exceſs; it is only, as
it were, one of thoſe natural inclinations
which reaſon equally forbids us too ſtrongly
to reſiſt, and too ſlaviſhly to obey.
This general principle muſt have been
ſuggeſted to him by one of thoſe vague ideas
of order and conformity, ſo common at that
time in philoſophy ; but he proved its truth,
by applying it to the vocabulary of words
which, in the Greek language, expreſſed what
were called the virtues.
About the ſame period, two new ſects,
founding their ſyſtems of morality, at leaſt in
appearance, upon two contrary principles,
divided the general mind, extended their in-
fluence beyond the limits of their ſchools,
and haſtened the fall of Greek ſuperſtition;
but, unhappily, a ſuperſtition more gloomy,
more dangerous, more inimical to Enowledge,
was ſoon to fucceed it.
The ſtoics made virtue and happineſs con-
{1ſt in the poſſeſſion of a ſoul alike inſenſible
to
3
{ mo }
to pleaſure and to pain, free from all the
paſſions, ſuperior to every fear, every weak-
neſs, knowing no abſolute-good but virtue, no
real evil but remorſe. They believed that
man was capable of raiſing himſelf to this
elevation, if he poſſeſſed a ſtrong and conſtant
deſire of doing ſo ; and that then, independent
of fortune, always maſter of himſelf, he was
equally inacceſſible to vice and calamity.
An individual mind animates the world : it
is preſent in every thing, if it be not every
thing, if there exift any other thing than
itſelf. The ſouls of human beings are emana-
tions of it. That of the ſage, who has not
defiled the purity of his origin, is re-united,
at the inſtant of death, to this univerſal ſpirit.
Accordingly, to the ſage, death would be a
bleſſing, if, ſubmiſſive to nature, hardened
againſt what vulgar men call evils, it was not
more glorious in him to regard it with in-
difference.
By Epicurus, happineſs is placed in the
_ enjoyment of pleaſure, and in freedom from
pain. Virtue, according to him, conſiſts in
following the natural inclinations of the heart,
at the ſame time taking care to purify and
direct
tan}
direct them. The practice of temperance;
which prevents pain, and, by preſerving our
faculties in their full force, ſecures all the en-
joyments that nature has provided for us ;
the care to guard ourſelves againſt hateful
and violent paſſions that torment and rend
the ſoul delivered up to their bitterneſs and
fury ; the farther care to cultivate, on the
contrary, the mild and tender affections; to
be frugal of pleaſures that low from benevo-
lence ; to preſerve the ſoul in purity, that we
may avoid the ſhame and remorſe which
puniſh vice, and enjoy the delicious ſenti-
ment that is the reward of laudable actions:
ſuch is the road that conducts at once both to
happineſs and virtue.
Epicurus regarded the univerſe only as
a collection of atoms, the different combina-
tions of which were ſubjected to neceſſary
laws. The human ſoul was itſelf one of thoſe
combinations. The atoms which compoſed it,
united when the body began to live, were
diſperſed at the moment of death, to unite
themſelves again to the common maſs, and
enter into new combinations.
Unwilling too violently to ſhock popular
prejudices, he admitted of Gods; but, in-
different
Enz)
different to the actions of men, ſtrangers t6
the order of the univerſe, and governed, like
other beings, by the general laws of its me-
chaniſm, they were a ſort of excreſcence of
the ſyſtem.
Men of moroſe, proud, and unjuſt cha-
racters, ſcreened' themſelves under the maſæ
of ſtoiciſm, while voluptuous and corrupt
men frequently ſtole into the gardens of Epi-
curus. Some calumniated the principles of
the Epicureans, who were accuſed of placing
the ſovereign good in the gratification of
ſenſual appetites. Others turned into ridicule
the pretenſions of the ſage Zeno, who, whether
a ſlave at the mill, or tormented with the gout,
was equally happy, free, and independent.
The philoſophy that pretended to ſoar
above nature, and that which wiſhed only to
obey nature; the morality which acknow-
ledged no other good than virtue, and that
which placed happineſs in the indulgence of
the natural inclinations, led to the ſame prac-
tical conſequences, though departing from
ſuch oppoſite principles, and holding ſo con-
trary a language. This reſemblance between
the moral precepts of all ſyſtems of religion,
and
6 333
and all ſects of philoſophy, would be ſufficient
to prove that they have a foundation inde-
pendent of the dogmas of thoſe religions, or
the principles of thoſe ſects; that it is in the
moral conſtitution of man we muſt ſeek the
baſis of his duties, the origin of his ideas of
juſtice and virtue: a truth which the ſect of
Epicureans approached more nearly than any
other; and no circumſtance perhaps ſo much
contributed to draw upon it the enmity of all
claſſes of hypocrites, with whom morality was
no commercial object of which they ambi-
* contended for the monopoly.
The fall of the Greek republics. e
that of the political ſciences. After Plato,
» Ariſtotle, and Xenophon, they almoſt ceaſed
to be included in the ſyſtem of philoſophy. _
But it is time to ſpeak of an event that
changed the lot of a conſiderable. part of the
world, and exerciſed on the progreſs of the
mind an influence that has reached even to
ourſelves.
If we except India and China, hi city of
Rome had extended its empire over every
nation in which human intelligence had riſen
above the weakneſs of its earlieſt infancy.
I So +
— — — — — neo ern nc
1140
It gave laws to all the countries into which
the Greeks had introduced their language,
their ſciences, and their philoſophy; and theſe |
nations, held by a chain which victory had
faſtened to the foot of the capitol, no longer
exiſted but by the will of Rome, and for the
paſſions of its chiefs.
A true picture of the conſtitution of this
ſovereign city will not be foreign to the object
of this work. We ſhall there ſee the origin of
hereditary patrician rank, and the artful means
that were adopted to give it greater ſtability
and force, by rendering it . leſs odious ; we
ſhall there ſee a people inured to arms, but
never employing them in domeſtic diflentions ;
uniting real power to legal authority, yet
ſcarcelydefendingthemſelves againſt a haughty
ſenate, that, while it rivetted the chains of ſu-
_ perſtition, dazzled them at the ſame time with
the ſplendor of their victories ; a great nation,
the ſport in turn both of its tyrants and its de-
_ fenders, and the patient dupe, for four centu-
ries, of a mode of taking votes, abſurd but
conſecrated. |
We ſhall ſee this conſtitution, made for a
yogi city, change its nature without changing
| its
(. ty Þ
its form, when it was neceſſary to extend it to
a great empire, unable to maintain itſelf but
_by continual wars, and preſently deſtroyed by
its own armies ; and laſtly, the people, the
ſovereign people, debaſed by the habit of
being maintained at the expence of the public
treaſury, and corrupted by the bounty of the
ſenators, ſelling to an individual the imaginary
remains of their uſeleſs freedom.
The ambition of the Romans led them to
ſearch in Greece for maſters in the art of elo-
quence, which in Rome was one of the roads
to fortune. That taſte for excluſive and re-
fined enjoyments, | that want of new plea-
ſures, which ſprings from wealth and idleneſs,
made them court ether arts of the Greeks,
and even the converſation of their philoſo-
phers. But the ſciences, philoſophy, and the
arts connected with painting, were plants fo-
reign to the ſoil of Rome. The avarice of the
conquerors covered Italy with the maſter-
pieces of Greece, taken by violence from the
temples, from cities of which they c conſtituted ö
tlie ornament, and where they ſerved A8 A
| conſolation under flavery. But the produc-
tio ns of no Roman dared mix with them.
| | I 2 5 Cicero
;
:
:
|
|
1
£
|
——— —— — — — —
ne
Cicero, Lucretius and Seneca wrote eloquently
in their language upon philoſophy, but it was
upon Grecian philoſophy ; and to reform the
barbarous calendar of Numa, Cæſar was obliged
to employ 4 mathematician from Alexandria.
Rome, long torn by the faQtions of ambi-
tious generals, buſied in new conqueſts, or
agitated by civil diſcords, fell at laſt from its
reſtleſs liberty into a military deſpotiſm Mill
more reſtleſs. And where, among the chiefs
that aſpired to tyranny, and ſoon after under
the deſpots who feared truth, and equally
hated both talents and virtue, were the
_ tranquil meditations of Rhiloſophy and the
ſeiences to find a place? Beſides, the ſciences
and philoſophy are neceſſarily neglected. as
barren and unprofitable in every country
where ſome honourable career, leading to
wealth and dignities, is open to all whom their
natural inclination may diſpoſe to ftudy : and
ſuch at Rome was that of juriſprudence.
When laws, as in the eaſt, are allied to re-
gion, the right of interpreting them becomes
one of the ſtrongeſt ſupports of ſacerdotal ty-
ranny. In Greece they had conſtituted a part
of the code given to each city by its reſpective
| | legiſla-
(
legiſlator, who had aſſimilated them to the
ſpirit of the conſtitution and government
which he eſtabliſhed. They experienced but
few alterations. The magiſtrates frequently
abuſed them, and individual inſtances of in-
juſtice were not leſs frequent; but the vices of
the laws never extended in Greece to a regu-
lar ſyſtem of robbery, reduced to the cold
forms of calculation. In Rome, where for a
long time no other authority was known but
the tradition of cuſtoms, where the judges de-
clared every year by what principles diſputes
would be decided during the continuance of
their magiſtracy, where the firſt written laws
were a compilation from the Greek laws,
drawn up by the decemvirs, more anxious
to preſerve their power than to honour it
by preſenting a ſound code of legiſlation:
in Rome, where, after that period, laws,
dictated at one time by the party of the
ſenate, and at another by the party of the
people, ſucceeded each other with rapidity,
and were inceſſantly either deſtroyed or con-
firmed, meliorated or aggravated by new de-
elarations, the multiplicity, the - complication”
and the obſcurity of the-laws, an inevitable
ES .
|
|
( 118 2
conſequence of the fluctuation of the language,
ſoon made of this ſtudy a ſcience apart. The
ſenate, taking advantage of the reſpect of the
people for the ancient inſtitutions, ſoon felt
that the privilege of interpreting laws was
nearly equivalent to that of making new ones;
and accordingly this body abounded with
lawyers. Their power ſurvived that of the
ſenate itſelf : it increaſed under the emperors,
becauſe it is neceſſarily greater as the code of
legiſlation becomes more anomalous and un-
certain. 7
Juriſprudence then is the only new ſcience
for which we are indebted to the Romans.
We ſhall trace its hiſtory, ſince it is connected
with the progreſs which the ſcience of legiſla-
tion has made among the moderns, and parti-
cularly with the obſtacles which that legiſla-
tion has had to encounter. 4 77
We ſhall ſhow, that reſpect for the poſitive
law of the Romans has contributed to preſerve
ſome ideas'of the natural law of men, in or-
der afterwards to'prevent theſe ideas from in-
creaſing and extending themſelves; and that
while we. are . indebted to their code for a
. Px: of 5 it has furniſhed us
with
E
with a far greater portion of tyrannical pre-
2 ö
The mildneſs of the penal laws, under the
republic, is worthy our notice. They in a
manner rendered ſacred the blood of a Roman
citizen. The penalty of death could not be
inflicted, without calling forth that extraordi-
nary power which announced publie calami-
ties and danger to the country. The whole
body of the people might be claimed as
judge between a ſingle individual and the re-
public. It was found that, with a free people,
this mildneſs was the only way to prevent
political diſſentions from degenerating into
cruel maſſacres ; the object was to correct, by
the humanity of the laws, the ferocious manners
of a people that, even in its ſports, ſquandered
profuſely the blood of its ſlaves. Accordingly,
ſtopping at the times of the Gracchi, in no
country have ſtorms ſo numerous and violent
been attended with ſo few (then. or colt ſo
little blood.
No work of the Romans upon the fubjedt of
politics has deſcended to us, That of Cicero
upon laws was probably but an embelliſhed
extract from the books of the Greeks. It
14 was
5
was not amidſt the convulſions of expiring
liberty, that moral ſcience could refine and
perfect itſelf, Under the deſpotiſm of the
Cæſars, ſtudy would have experienced no
other conſtruction than a conſpiracy againſt
their power. In ſhort, nothing more clearly
proves how much the Romans were ignorant
of this ſcience, than the example they furniſh
us, not to be equalled in the annals of hiſtory,
of an uninterrupted ſucceſſion, from Nerva to
Marc Antony, of five emperors, poſſeſſing at
once virtue, talents, knowledge, a love of
glory, and zeal for the public welfare, with- :
out a ſingle inſtitution originating from them
that has marked the deſire of fixing bounds to
dieſpotiſm, of preventing revolutions, and of
cementing by new ties the parts of that huge
maſs, of which every thing N the ap-
proaching diſſolution. |
The union of ſo many nations vader one
ſovereignty, the ſpread of two languages
which divided the empire, and which were
alike familiar to almoſt every well-informed
mind, theſe cauſes, acting in concert, muſt
have contributed, no doubt, to the more equal
diffuſion of knowledge over a greater ſpace,
Another
ka
p\ ©
IH t4
„5
| Another natural effe& muſt have been to
weaken by degrees the differences which ſe-
' parated the philoſophical ſects, and to unite
them into one, that ſhould contain ſuch opi-
nions of each as were moſt conformable to
reaſon, and which a ſober inveſtigation had
tended to confirm. This was the point to
which reaſon could not fail to bring philoſo-
phers, when, from the effect of time on the
enthuſiaſm. of ſectaries, her voice alone was
ſuffered to be heard. Accordingly, we find
already, i in Seneca, marks of this philoſophy ;
indeed it was never entirely diſtinct from the
ſet of the academics, which at length ap-
peared to become entirely the ſame with it;
and the moſt modern of the diſciples of Platg
were the founders of the ſect of eclectics.
Almoſt every - religion of the empire had
been national ; but they all poſſeſſed ſtrong
lines of reſemblance, and in a manner a fa-
mily likeneſs, No metaphyſical doctrines;
many ſtrange ceremonies, of the meaning of
which the people, and frequently the prieſts,
were ignorant; an! abſurd mythology, in |
which the multitude read the marvellous hiſ-
tory of its Gads. only, but which men better
| enge
|
|
|
|
52
|
( 122
_ enlightened ſuſpected to be an allegory of
doctrines more ſublime ; bloody ſacrifices ;
1dols repreſenting Gods, and of which ſome
poſſeſſed a celeſtial virtue ; pontiffs devoted to
the worſhip of each divinity, but without
forming a political corps, and even without
being united in a religious communion ; ora-
cular powers attached to certain temples, re-
{ding in certain ſtatues ; and laſtly, myſte-
ries, which their hierophants never revealed
without impoſing an inviolable law of ſe-
creſy. Theſe were the features of reſem-
blance, |
Let us add, that the prieſts, arbiters of the
religious conſcience, had preſumed to aſſert
no, claim upon the moral conſcience; that
they directed the practice of worſhip, but
not the actions of private life. They ſold
_ oracles and auguries to political powers; they
could precipitate nations into war; they could
dictate to them crimes ; but they exerciſed
no influence either over the government or
the laws. 5
When the different nations, ſubjects now
of the ſame empire, enjoyed an habitual in-
Weourſe, and knowledge had every where
ms 2 madg
& x4
6123)
made nearly an equal progreſs, it was ſoon
diſcovered, by well- informed minds, that all
this multifarious worſhip was that of one only _
God, of whom the numerous divinities, the
immediate objects of popular adoration, were
but the modifications or the miniſters _
Meanwhile, among the Gauls, and in ſome
cantons of the eaſt, the Romans had found
religions of another kind, There the prieſts
were the arbiters of morality; and virtue
conſiſted in obedience to a God, of whom
they called themſelves. the ſole interpreters.
Their power extended over the whole man;
the temple and the country were confounded ;
without being previouſly an adorer of Jehova,
or OEſus, it was impoſſible to be a citizen or,
ſubject of the empire; and the prieſts deter-
mined to what human laws their God exacted
obedience.
Theſe religions were calculated to wound
the pride of the maſters of the world, That
of the Gauls was too powerful for them not
to ſeek immediately its deſtruction, The
Jewiſh nation was even diſperſed, But the
vigilance of government either diſdained, or
elbe was unable to reach, the obſcure ſects that
ſecretly
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(124 )
ſecretly formed themſelves out of the wreck of
the old ſyſtems of worſhip.
One of the benefits reſulting from the
propagation of the Greek philoſophy, had
been to put an end to a belief in the popular
divinities in all claſſes of men who had re-
ceived any tolerable education. A vague kind
of deiſm, or the pure mechaniſm of Epicu-
rus, was, even at the time of Cicero, the
common doctrine of every enlightened mind,
and of all thoſe who had the direction of pub-
lic affairs. This claſs of men was neceſſarily
attached to the old religion, which however |
it ſought to purify from its droſs; for the mul-
tiplicity of Gods of every country had tired
out even the credulity of, the people. Then
were ſeen philoſophers forming ſyſtems upon
the idea of interpoſing genii, and ſubmitting
to preparatory obſervances, rites, and a reli-
gious diſcipline, to render themſelves more
worthy of approaching theſe ſuperior eſſences;
and it was in the dialogues of Plato they _
the prineiples of this doctrine,
The inhabitants of conquered nations, the
children of misfortune, men of a weak but
1 28 ä would from preference.
attach
( 125 )
attach themſelves to the ſacerdotal religions;
becauſe the intereſt of the ruling prieſts dic- _
tated to them that very doctrine of equality
in ſlavery, of the renunciationr of temporal
enjoyments, of rewards in heaven reſerved for
blind ſubmiſſion, for ſufferings, for mortifica-
tions inflicted voluntarily, or endured without
repining ; that doctrine ſo attractive, ſo con-
ſolatory to oppreſſed humanity ! But they
felt the neceſſity of relieving, by metaphyſical
ſubtleties, their groſs mythology ; and here
again they had recourſe to Plato. His dia-
logues were the arſenal to which two oppoſite
parties reſorted to forge their theological arms.
In the ſequel we ſhall ſee Ariſtotle obtaining a
ſimilar honour, and becoming at once the
maſter of the theologians, a and chief of the
atheiſts,
— Twenty n ai gend ſects, Anni
their forces againſt the religion of the empire,
but contending againſt each other with equal
fury, were loſt at length in the religion of
Jeſus. From their wreck were compoſed a
hiſtory, a creed, a ritual, and a ſyſtem of mo-
rality, to which by degrees the maſs oi mou
1 attached chemſelves. 5
They
33
They all believed in a Chriſt, a Meſhat
ſent from God to reſtore the human race.
This was the fundamental doctrine of every
ſect that attempted to raiſe itſelf upon the
ruins of the ancient ſects. They diſputed
' reſpecting the time and place of his appear-
ance, and his mortal name: but a prophet,
ſaid to have ſtarted up in Paleſtine, in the
reign of Tiberius, eclipſed all the other ex-
pected prophets, and the new fanatics rallied
under the ſtandard of the ſon of Mary.
In proportion as the empire weakened, the
progreſs of this religion of Chriſt became
more rapid. The degraded ſtate of the ancient
conquerors of the world extended to their
Gods, who, after preſiding in their victories,
were no longer regarded than as the impotent
witneſſes of their defeat. The ſpirit of the
new ſect was better ſuited to periods of de-
eline and misfortune. Its chiefs, in ſpite of
their impoſtures and their vices, were enthu-
ſiaſts ready to ſuffer death for their doctrine.
The religious zeal of the philoſophers and of
the great, was only a political devotion: and
every religion which men permit themſelves
to defend as a creed uſeful to be left to the
people,
( 127 )
people, can expect no other fate than a diſſo-
lution more or leſs diſtant. Chriſtianity ſoon
became a powerful party; it mixed in the
quarrels of the Cæſars: it placed Conſtantine
on the throne ; where it afterwards ſeated it-
ſelf, by the ſide of his weak ſucceſſors.
In vain did one of thoſe extraordinary men
whom chance ſometimes exalts to ſovereign
power, Julian, wiſh to free the empire from
this plague which was calculated to haſten its
fall. His virtues, his indulgent humanity,
the ſimplicity of his manners, the dignity of
his ſoul and his character, his talents, his
courage, his military genius, the ſplendor of
his victories, every thing ſeemed to promiſe
him ſucceſs. No other reproach could be
caſt upon him than that of ſhowing for a reli-
gion, become ridiculous, an attachment un-
worthy of him if ſincere, indiſereet from its
extravagance if political: but he died in the
midft of his glory, after a reign of two years.
The Coloſſus of the Roman empire found its
arms no longer ſufficiently ſtrong to ſupport
the weight of it ; and the death of Julian broke
down the only mound that might yet have
JE itſelf againſt the torrent of new ſu-
perſtitions,
— —— Rane
( 128 )
perſtitions, and the inundations of barba-
1 GE |
Contempt for human ſciences was one of the
firſt features of Chriſtianity, It had to avenge
itfelf of the outrages of philoſophy ; it feared
that ſpirit of inveſtigation and doubt, that
confidence of man in his own reaſon, the peſt
alike of all religious creeds. The light of the
natural ſciences was even odious to it, and
was. regarded with a ſuſpicious eye, as being
a dangerous enemy to the ſucceſs of mi-
racles: and there is no religion that does not
oblige its ſectaries to ſwallow ſome phyſical
abſurdities. The triumph of Chriſtianity was
thus the ſignal of the entire decline both of
the ſciences and of philoſophy. _ 575
Had the art of printing been known, the
ſciences would have been able to preſerve
: | » Hs
their. ground ; but the exifting manuſcripts
of any particular book were few in number ;
and to procure works that might form the en-
tire body of a ſcience, required cares, and often
journies and an expence to which the rich only
were competent. It was eaſy for the ruling.
party to ſuppreſs the appearance of books
Whack ſhocked its prejudices, or unmaſked its
impoſtures.
( 129 )
impoſtures. An incurſion of barbarians might,
in one day, deprive for ever a whole country of
the means of knowledge. The deſtruction of
a ſingle manuſcript was often an irreparable
and univerſal loſs. Beſides, no works were
copied but ſuch as were recommended by the
names of the authors. All thoſe inveſtiga-
tions which can acquire importance only from
their aſſemblage, thoſe detached obſervations, :
thoſe improvements of detail, that ſerve to
keep the ſciences flowing in a level channel,
and that prepare their future progreſs ; all
thoſe materials which time amaſſes, and
which await the birth of genius, were con-
demned to an eternal obſcurity. That con-
cert of learned men, that combination of all
their forces, ſo advantageous, ſo indiſpenſible
at certain periods, had no exiſtence. It was,
neceſſary for the ſame individual to begin and;
complete a diſcgvery ; and he was obliged
to combat with his ſingle ſtrength all the oh-
ſtacles which nature oppoſes to our efforts.
The works which facilitate the ſtudy of the
ſciences, which throw light upon difficulties,
which exhibit truths under more commodious
and more ſimple forms, thoſe details of obſer-
K vation,
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vation, thoſe developements which ſerve to
( 130
detect erroneous inferences, and in which the
reader frequently catches what the author
himſelf has not perceived; ſuch works would
find neither copyiſts nor readers. ;
It was then impoſſible that the ſciences, ar-
rived at a point in which the progreſs, and
even the ſtudy of them were mill difficult,
ſhould be able to ſupport themſelves, and re-
{it the current that bore them rapidly towards
their decline. Accordingly it ought not to
aſtoniſh us that Chriſtianity, though unable
inthe ſequel to prevent their re-appearance in
ſplendor, after the invention of printing, was
at this period enn powerful to accom-
pliſh ie Fa as *
If we. except the dramas art, kicks ins:
riſked only in Athens; and muſt have been
involved in her fall, and eloquence, which
cannot breathe but in a free air, the language
and literature -of the Greeks preſerved for a
long time their luſtre. Lucian and Plutarch
would not diſparage the age of Alexander.
Rome, it is true, roſe to a level with. Greece
n poetry, eloquence, hiſtory, and the art of
5 eating with dignity, I and faſcina-
Of tion,
n
tion, the dry ſubjects of philoſophy and the
ſeiences. Greece indeed had no poet, that
evinced ſo fully as Virgil, the idea of perfec-
tion, and no hiſtorian to be compared with
Tacitus. But this inſtant of ſplendor was
followed by a ſpeedy decline. From the time
of Lucian, Rome had ſcarcely any writers
above barbariſm. Chryſiſtom ſtill ſpeaks the
language of Demoſthenes. We recogniſe*no
longer that of Cicero or of Livy, either in
Auſtin, or even in Jerome, who has not to
plead in his excuſe the influence of 2
en
The cauſe is, that at Rome the Audy of
letters and love of the arts were never the real
| | taſte of the people; that the tranſient per-
| fection of its language was the work, not of
the national genius, but of a few individuals
whom Greece had been the inſtrument of
forming. The caufe is, that the Roman ter-
ritory was always, as to letters, a foreign
ſoil, to which an aſſiduous culture had been
able to naturaliſe them, but where they muſt
neceſſarily degenerate the moment they were
abandoned to themſelves. | - 75
8 , The
X 132
The importance ſo long affixed, in Greece
and in Rome, to the tribune and the bar, in-
creaſed in thoſe countries the claſs of rheto-
ricians. Their lbours have contributed to
the progreſs of the art, of which they have
developed the principles and ſubtleties. © But
they taught another art too much neglected by
the moderns, and which at preſent it has been
thought proper to transfer from ſpeeches for
the tribune, to compoſitions for the preſs: I
mean that of preparing with facility, and in a
ſhort ſpace of time, diſcourſes, which, from
the arrangement of their parts, from the me-
thod conſpicuous in them, from the graces
with which they may be embelliſhed, ſhall at
leaſt become fupportable : 1 mean the art of
being able to ſpeak almoſt inſtantaneouſly,
without fatiguing the auditors with a medley
of ideas, or a diffuſe ſtyle; without diſguſting
them with idle declamation, quaint conceits,
[nonſenſe and fopperies, How uſeful would
be this art in every country where the func-
tions of office, public duty, or private intereſt
may oblige men to ſpeak and write, without
having time to ſtudy their ſpeeches or their
compoſitions? its hiſtory is the more deſerv-
ing
|
|
|
|
( 133)
ing our attention, as the moderns, to whom
in the mean time it muſt often be neceſſary,
appear only to have known it on the ſide of
abſurdity. 1
From the eommencement of the cu of
which I ſhall here terminate the delineation,
manuſcripts were tolerably numerous; but
time had ſpread over the performances of the
firſt Greek writers a ſufficient number of ob-
{curities, for the ſtudy of books and opinions,
known by the name of erudition, to form an
important portion of the occupations, of the
mind; and the Alexandrian lihtary was
crowded with grammarians and critics, rt
In what has been tranſmitted to us of their
ae we perceive a propenſity in theſe
critics to proportion their degree of confidence
and admiration of any book to its antiquity,
and the difficulty of underſtanding and pro-
curing it; a diſpoſition to judge opinions not
by themſelves, not according to their merits,
but from the names of their authors ; to found
their belief upon authority, rather than upon
reaſon ; in ſhort, that falſe and deſtructive
idea of the deterioration of the human race, and
ſup eriority of ancient 3 The ſolution
*
* —
—
—— FAM
—
— — 1 eG
:
Pj —— — — — EL — — — — — — | — _ © — —
— , r ͤ œmꝶ?! or ALI eee * + — — — —— — —
— — — -.—— — _—_— — — _ — 6 — Oc WE IE — vo — >
* 7 - *
= >
5 »
. 6 *
( 134 )
and excuſe of this error, an error in which
the antiquarians of every country have had à
greater or leſs ſhare, are to be found in the
importance which men affix to what has been
the object of their attention, and called forth
the energies of their mind.
The Greek and Roman antiquarians, and
even their literati and philoſophers, are charge-
able with a total neglect of that ſpirit of doubt
which ſubjects to a rigorous inveſtigation both
facts, and the proofs that eſtabliſh them. In
reading their accounts of the hiſtory of events
or of manners, of the productions and pheno-
mena of nature, or of the works and pro-
ceſſes of the arts, we are aftoniſhed at the
compoſure with which they relate the moſt
palpable abſurdities, and the moſt fulſome
and diſguſting prodigies. A hearſay or ru-
mour which they found tacked to any event,
was ſufficient, they conceived, to ſcreen them
from the cenſure of childiſh credulity. This
indifference, which ſpoiled their ſtudy of hiſ-
+... tory, and was an obſtruction to their advance-
ment in the knowledge of nature, is to be
aſcribed to the misfortune of the art of print-
: ing nat being known. The certainty of our
*
#
{ ns 1)
having collected, reſpecting any fact, all the
authorities for and againſt it, a facility in
ee the different teſtimonies, the op-
portunity of throwing light upon the ſubject
by the diſcuſſions to which that difference
may give riſe, are means of aſcertaining truth
which can only exiſt when it is poſſible to
procure a great number of books, when co-
pies of them may be indefinitely multiplied,
and when no fear is entertained of giving them
too extenſive a circulation,
How were the relations and deſcriptions
of travellers, of which there frequently exiſted
but a ſingle copy, deſcriptions that were not
ſubjected to public judgment, to acquire that
ſtamp of authority, founded upon the circum-
ſtance of ſuch judgment not having, and not
being able, to contradict them ? Accordingly,
every thing was recorded alike, becauſe it was
impoſlible to aſcertain with any certainty what
was deſerving of record, But we can haye
no right to aſtoniſhment, at this practice of
repreſenting with equal confidence, and as
founded upon equal authorities, faqs the
moſt natural, and miracles the moſt ſtupend-
ous; the ſame error is till inculcated in our
K 4 ichools
5 ( 2
ſehools as a principle of philoſophy, while, in
another ſenſe, an overweening ineredulity
leads us to reject without examination what-
ever appears to us to be out of nature; nor
has the ſcience in our days begun to exiſt, that
ca alone teach us to find, between theſe two
extremes, the point at which reaſon directs us
to ſtop.
6
SIXTH EPOCH.
Decline of Learning, to its R 19 about
1 Period of. the. Cruſades, =
IN ab diſaſtrous epoch at which we are
now arrived, we ſhall ſee the human mind
rapidly deſcending from the height to which
it had raiſed itſelf, while Ignorance marches
in triumph, earrying with her, in one place,
barbarian ferocity ; in another, a more refined |
and accompliſhed cruelty ; every where, cor.
ruption and perfidy. A glimmering of talents,
ſome faint ſparks of greatneſs or benevolence
of ſoul, will, with difficulty, be diſcerned
amidſt the univerſal darkneſs. Theologieal
rev eries, ſuperſtitious deluſions, are become
the ſole genius of man, religious intolerance
his only morality; and Europe, cruſhed be-
tween ſacerdotal tyranny and military deſ,
| potiſm, awaits, in blood and in tears, the mo-
ment when the revival of light ſhall reſtore it
to liberty, to humanity, and to virtue.
2 0
*
—
638)
We ſhall divide the picture into two diſtinct
parts. The firſt will embrace the Weſt, where
the decline was more rapid and more ah -
ſolute, but where the light of reafon is
again to make its appearance, never more to
be extinguiſhed. The ſecond will be con-
ſined to the Eaſt, where the decline was more
flow, and, for a long time, leſs univerſal, but
where the day of reaſon has not yet dawned,
that ſhall enlighten it, and enable it to break
in pieces its chains.
Chriſtian piety had ſearcely een ho
altars of victory, when the Weſt became the
prey of. barbarians. They embraced the new
religion, without adopting the language of the
vanquiſhed. This the prieſts alone preſerved;
but, from their ignorance and contempt for
human learning, they exhibited none of thoſe
appearances which might have been expected
from a peruſal of the Latin books, particularly
when they only were . of ne
them. 5
The illiterate charaQer; and dicks manners 5
of the conquerors, are ſufficiently known:
meanwhile, it was in the midſt of this fera-
cious ſtupidity that the deſtruction of d-
| meltic
. ˙—- ee es a. a a a Ek addon —
%
( 139 )
meſtic ſtavery took place; a ſlavery that had
diſgraced the beſt days of Greece, when a a
country diſtinguiſhed for learning and li-
berty.
The rural a ſerfs of the lbs culti-
vated the lands of the conquerors. By this
oppreſſed claſs of men, their houſes were ſup-
plied with domeſtics, whoſe dependent ſitua-
tion anſwered all the purpoſes of their pride
or their caprice. Accordingly, the object of
their wars was not flaves, but lands and
colonies. |
Beſide, che . ſlaves which they found
in the countries they invaded, were in a great
meaſure either ' priſoners taken from ſome
tribe of the victorious nation, or the children
of thoſe priſoners. Many, at the moment of
conqueſt, had fled, or elſe joined themſelves
to the army of the conquerors. -
The principles of general fraternity, wh
conſtituted a part of the Chriſtian morals, alſo
condemned ſlavery ; and, as the prieſts ſaw no
political reaſon for contradicting, in this par-
ticular, maxims that did honour to their cauſe,
they contributed, by their diſcourſes, to a
downfall which otherwiſe events and man-
ners would neceſſarily have accompliſhed.
( 140 )
This change has proved the generative
principle of a revolution in the deſtinies of
mankind. To this men are indebted for the
knowledge of true liberty. But its influence
on the lot of individuals was at firſt almoſt
inſenſible. We ſhould form a very falſe idea of
domeſtic ſlavery as it exiſted at this period and
among the ancients, if we compared it to that
of our negroes. The Spartans, the grandees of
Rome, and the ſatraps of the Eaſt, were, no
doubt, barbarous maſters, Avarice difplayed
all its brutality in the labours of the mines:
but, on the other hand, intereſt had almoſt
every where ſoftened the ſtate of ſlavery in
private families. The impunity granted for
violences committed againſt the rural flave,
was carried to a high pitch, ſince the law had
exactly fixed its price, His dependence was
as great as that of the domeſtic, without being
compenſated by the ſame attentions, He was
leſs perpetually under the eye of his maſter ;
but he was treated with a more lordly arro-
gance. The domeſtic was a ſlave whom for-
tune had reduced to a condition to which
a ſimilar fortune might one day reduce his
maſter, The rural ſlave, on the contrary, was
„
conſidered as of 4 a lower claſs, and! in a fate
of degradation.
It is principally, then, in its remote cad
quences that we muſt conſider this annihila-
tion of domeſtic ſlavery. .
Theſe barbarian nations had all nearly the
ſame form of government, conſiſting of a
common chief, called 4g, who, with a'couns
cil, pronounced judgments, and gave deciſions, |
that it would have been dangerous to delay;
of an aſſembly of private chiefs, conſulted upon
all reſolutions of 'a certain importance; and,
laſtly, of an aſſembly of the people, in which
meaſures intereſting to the general eommunity
were deliberated: The principal difference
was the greater or leſs degree of authority .
affixed to theſe three powers, which were not
diſtinguiſhed by the nature of their functions,
but by the rank of affairs confided to them
and, above all, by the value of that rank in
the minds of the majority of the citizens.
Among the agricultural tribes of theſe bar»
barians, and particularly thoſe who had al-
ready formed an eftabliſhment' on a foreign
territory, theſe conſtitutions had aſſumed a
more 8 and more ſolid form, than
among
( 142 )
among paſtoral tribes. The individuals of
ſuch tribes alſo were diſperſed over the ſoil,
and did not live, like the others, in encamp-
ments more or leſs numerous. The king
therefore had not always an army aſſembled
about his perſon ; and deſpotiſm could not ſo
immediately follow upon conqueſt, as in the
revolutions of Aſia.
The viclorigus nation was thus not EET
At the ſame time, theſe conquerors kept the
towns, but without inhabiting them. As they
were not held in awe by an armed force, no
permanent force of that kind exiſting, they
acquired a ſort of power; and this power
was a point of ſupport for the liberty of the
conguered nation. _
Italy was often aac by the barbarians ; :
but they were able to form there no .
eſtabliſhments, from its wealth continually
exciting the avarice of new conquerors, and
becauſe the Greeks entertained the hope, for a
conſiderable period, of uniting it to the em-
pire. It was never, by any people, entirely or
permanently ſubdued. The Latin language,
which was there the only language of the
people, degenerated more ſlowly; and i igno-
.
6 148 }
%
rance alſo was leſs complete, ſuperſtition leſs
ſenſeleſs, than in the other parts of the
Weſt. fa :
v0 "ue POR WADA HA EN. AURA GAY nA Wn oe Ps
7
Rome, which acknowledged maſters only
to change them, maintained a ſort of in-
dependence. This city was the reſidence of
the chief of the religion. Accordingly, while
in the Eaſt, ſubjected to a ſingle prince, the
clergy, ſometimes governing, and ſometimes
conſpiring againſt the emperors, ſupported
deſpotiſm, though reſiſting the deſpot, and pre-
ferred availing themſelves, of the whole power
of an abſolute maſter, to diſputing a part of it;
we ſee them, on the contrary, in the Weſt,
united under a common head, erecting. a
power, the rival of that of; kings, and forming
in theſe divided ſtates a ſort. of * and |
. Wen monarchyp.
We ſhall exhibit this ruling Ny: lg the
experiment upon the univerſe of a new ſpe-
cies of chains; its pontiffs ſubjugating igno-
rant credulity by acts groſsly forged ; mixing
religion with all the tranſactions of civil life,
to render them more ſubſervient to their
avaric2 or their pride; eunithing by anathe-
mas, from "ie the. People: ſhrunk with
doe
N
|
1
|
Þ
|
93
— |
'2Y
( 144 )
horror, the leaſt oppoſition to their laws, the
ſmalleſt reſiſtance of their abſurd; pretenſions;
having an army of monks in every ſtate,
ready, by their impoſtures, to enhance the
terrors of ſuperſtition; thereby to feed the
flame of fanaticiſm; depriving nations of their
worſhip and ceremonies, upon which de-
pended their religious hopes, to kindle civil
war; diſturbing all, to govern all; com-
manding, in the name of God, treaſon and
perfidy, aſſaſſination and parricide; making
kings and warriors now the inſtruments, and
now the victims, of their revenge; diſpoſing
of force, but never poſſeſſing it; terrible to
their enemies, but trembling before their own
defenders; omnipotent to the 7 8 extremi-
ties of Europe, yet inſulted with! impunity :
at the foot even of their altars ; finding in
heaven the point upon which to fix the lever
for moving the world; but without diſcovering
on earth the regulator that is to direct and
continue its motion at their will; in ſhort,
erecting a Coloſſus, but with legs of clay,
that, after firſt oppreſſing Europe, is after-
Wards to weary it, for a long period, with
the weight of its ruins and ſcattered frag-
ments.
Conq ueſt
4a)
n had introduced into the Weſt
à tumultuous anarchy, in which the people
groaned under the triple tyranny of kings,
leaders of armies, and prieſts; but this anarehy
carried in its womb the ſeed of liberty. In
this portion of Europe muſt be comprehended
the countries into which the Romans had not
penetrated, Partaking of the general com-
motion, conquering and conquered in turn,
having the ſame origin, the ſame manners as
the conquerors. of the empire, theſe people
were confounded with them in the common
maſs. Their political ſtate muſt have ex-
perienced the ſame alterations, and followed
a ſimilar route.
We ſhall give a ſketch of * G
of this feodal anarehy: a name that may
furniſh an idea of its character
Their legiſlation was incoherent and bars
barous. If we find in its records many laws
apparently mild, this mildneſs was nothing
elſe than an unjuſt and privileged impunity.
Meanwhile we trace among them ſome in-
ſtitutions of a true temper, which, though as
being intended to conſecrate the rights of.
the oppreſſor, were an additional outrage to
| "+
( 16)
the rights of men, yet tended to preſerve
ſome feeble idea of theſe laſt, and were
deſtined one day to ſerve as an index to their |
recognition and reſtoration. |
In this legiſlation two ſingular cuſtoms are
obſervable, characteriſtic at once both of the
infancy of nations, and the ignorance of the
rude ages. A criminal might purchaſe exemp-
tion from puniſhment by means of a ſum of
money fixed by law, which eftimated the
lives of men according to their dignity or
their birth. Crimes were not confidered as a
violation of the ſecurity and rights of citizens,
which the dread of puniſhment was to pre-
vent, but as an outrage committed on an in-
_ dividual, which himſelf or his family might
_ avenge, if they pleaſed, but of which the la
offered a more advantageous reparation. Men
had fo little notion of aſcertaining the proofs
by which a fact might be ſubſtantiated, that
it was thought a more ſimple mode of pro-
ceeding to requeſt of Heaven a miracle, when-
ever the queſtion was to diſcriminate between
guilt and innocence; and the ſucceſs of a
ſuperſtitious experiment, or the chance event
bop a combat, were regarded as the ſureſt
_ 4 | * y ns
1
(147 55
means of detecting falſhood and arten at
the trum.
With men who made no diſtinction be-
tween independence and liberty, the quarrels
ariſing among thoſe who ruled over a portion,
however ſmall, of the territory, muſt degenerate
into private wars; and theſe wars extending
from canton to canton, from village to village,
habitually delivered up the whole ſurface of
each country to all thoſe horrors which, even
in great invaſions, are but tranſient, and in
general wars deſolate only the frontiers.
Whenever tyranny aims at redueing the
maſs of a people to the will of one of its
portions, the prejudices and ignorance of the
victims are counted among the means of
effecting it: it endeavours to compenſate, by |
the compreſſion and activity of a ſmaller
force, for the ſuperiority of real force, which,
one might ſuppoſe, cannot fail to belong, at
all times, to the majority of numbers. But the
principal foundation of its hope, which how-= |
ever it can ſeldom attain, is that of eftabliſh- -
ing between the maſters and flaves a real dif-
ference, which ſhall in a manner render na-
ture herſelf an accomplice in the Sault of
| political i inequality 5 4
, * by f Suck
( 148 )
Such was, in remote periods, the art of the
Eaſtern prieſts, who were at once, kings,
pontiffs, judges, aſtronomers, ſurveyors, artiſts
and phyſicians. But what they owed to the
excluſive poſſeſſion of intellectual powers, the
groſſer tyrants of our weak progenitors ob-
tained by their inſtitutions and their warlike
habits. Clothed with an impenetrable ar-
mour, fighting only upon horſes as invul-
nerable as themſelves, acquiring, by dint of a
long and painful diſcipline, the neceſſary
ſtrength and addreſs for guiding and govern-
ing them, they might oppreſs with impunity,
and murder without riſk, an individual of the
commonalty, too poor to purchaſe theſe ex-
penſive accoutrements, and whoſe youth, ne-
ceſſarily occupied by uſeful labours, could
not Have been deroted to military exer-
ciſes.
Thus the tyranny of the few 3 by
0 practice of this mode of fighting, a real
ſuperiority of force, which muſt have excluded
all idea of reſiſtance, and which rendered for a
long time fruitleſs even the efforts of deſpair. |
Thus the equality of nature diſappeared be-
fore this factitious inequality of n ;
( 149 : a
irh morality of this period, which it was
the province of the prieſts: alone to inculcate,
comprehended thoſe univerſal principles which
no ſet has overlooked; but it gave birth to a
multitude of duties purely religious, and of
imaginary fins. Theſe duties were more
ſtrongly enforced than thoſe of nature; and
actions indifferent, lawful, and even virtuous,
were cenſured and puniſhed with greater ſe-
verity than actual ctimes, Meanwhile a mo-
mentary repentance, conſecrated by the abſo-
lution of a prieſt, opened the gates of heaven
to the wicked ; and donations to the church,
with the obſervance of certain practices flat-
| tering to its pride, ſufficed to atone for a life
crowded with iniquity. Nor was this all:
abſolutions were formed into a regular tariff.
Care was taken to include in the catalogue of
fins, all the degrees of human infirmity, from
ſimple deſires, from the moſt innocent in-
dulgences of love, to the refinements and
exceſſes of the moſt intemperate debauchery.
This was a frailty from which, it was well
known, few were able to eſcape; and it was
accordingly one of the moſt productive a
branches of the ſacerdotal commerce. There
ä Was
(
was even a hell of a limited duration in-
vented, which prieſts had the power of abridg-
ing, and from which they could grant diſ-
penſations; a favour which they firſt obliged
the living to purchaſe, and afterwards the
relations or friends of the deceaſed. They
ſold ſo much land in heaven for an equal
quantity of land upon earth; and they had
the extreme modeſty not to aſk any thing to
boot.
The manners of this epoch were e 5
tunately worthy of a ſyſtem ſo pregnant with
corruption, ſo rootedly depraved. Their na-
ture may be learned from the progreſs of this
very ſyſtem itſelf; from the monks, ſome-
times inventing old miracles, ſometimes fabri-
cating new ones, and nouriſhing with pro-
digies and fables the ſtupid ignorance of the
people, whom they deceived in order to rob
them; from the doctors of the church, em-
Ploying the little imagination they poſſeſſed
in enriching their creed with farther abſurdi-
ties, and exceeding, if poſſible, thoſe which
Had been tranſmitted to them; from the
| prieſts, obliging princes to conſign to the
flames, not only the men who preſumed either
| oy to
6
to doubt any of their dogmas, or inveſtigate |
their impoſtures, or bluſh for their crimes,
but thoſe. who ſhould depart for an in-
ſtant from their blind obedience ; and even
theologiſts themſelves, when they indulged 3 in
eben different from thoſe of the umpires of
che church, enjoying moſt influence and con-
trol. Such, at this period, are the only traits
which the manners of the Weſt of Europe
can furniſh to the picture of the human
ſpecies.
In the Eaft, ok under. a. F deſpot,
we ſhall obſerve a ſlower decline accompany-
ing the, gradual debility of the empire; the
ignorance and depravity of every, age ad-
vancing a few degrees above the ignorance
and depravity of the preceding one; while
riches diminiſh, the frontiers ally themſelves
more cloſely to the capital, revolutions be-
come more frequent, and ee Se mare
daſtardly and more cruel. 55
In following the hiſtory of this expire, i in
reading the books that each age has pro-
duced, the moſt ſuperſicial and leaſt attentive
abſeryer cannot avoid being 1 n the
| „ we have mer
= IL. 4
A py
( 152 )
The people there indulged themſelves more
frequently in theological diſputes. Theſe ac-
cordingly occupy a more conſiderable portion
of its hiſtory, have a greater influence upon
olitical events, and the dreams of prieſts
acquire a ſubtlety which the jealouſy of the
Weſt could as yet not attain. Religious in-
tolerance was equally oppreffive in both
quarters of Europe; but, in the country we
are conſidering, its aſpect was leſs ferocious. ©
Meanwhile the works of Photius evince
that a taſte for rational ſtudy was not extinct.
A few emperors, princes, and even ſome fe-
male ſovereigns, are found ſeeking laurels out
of the boundaries of theological 1
and deigning to cultivate human learning.
The Roman legiſlation was but ſlowly cor-
rupted by that mixture of bad laws 'which
avarice and tyranny dictated to the em-
perors, or which ſuperſtition extorted from
their weakneſs. The Greek language loſt its
purity and character; but” it preferved its
richneſs, its forms and its grammar; and the
inhabitants of Conſtantinople could ſtill read
Homer and Sophocles, Thucydides and Plato.
+ tat * * 9 of the
burning
1
burning glaſſes of Archimedes, which Proclus 2
employed with ſucceſs in the defence of the
capital. Upon the fall of the empire, this city
contained ſome literary characters, who took
refuge in Italy, and whoſe learning was uſeful
to the progreſs of knowledge. Thus, even at
this period, the Eaſt had not arrived at the
laſt ſtage of ignorance ; but at the ſame time
it furniſhed no hope of a revival of letters. It
became the prey of barbarians ; ; the feeble re-
mains of intellectual cultivation diſppeared ;
and the genius of Greece ſtill waits the hand
of a deliverer. Fd
At the extremities of Aſia, and upon the
confines of Africa, there exiſted a people, who,
from i its local ſituation and its courage, eſcaped
the conqueſts of the Perſians, of Alexander,
and of the Romans. Of its numerous tribes, |
ſome derived their ſubſiſtance from agrieul-
ture, while others obſerved a paſtoral life;
all purſued commerce, and ſome addicted
themſelves to robbery. Having a ſimilarity
of origin, of language and of religious habits,
they formed a great nation, the different parts
of 1 which, however, were held together by no
poktical tie, Suddenly there ſtarted up among
| them
£
4
( 154 )
them a man of an ardent enthuſiaſm and moſt
profound policy, born with the talents of a
poet, as well as thoſe of a warrior. This man
conceived the bold project of uniting the
Arabian tribes into one body, and he had the
courage to execute it. To ſucceed in im-
poſing a chief upon a nation hitherto in-
vincible, he began with erecting upon the
ruins of the ancient worſhip a religion more
reſined. At once legiſlator, prophet, prieſt,
judge, and general of the army, he was in
poſſeſſion of all the means of ſubjugating the
mind; and he knew how to employ them
with addreſs, but at the ſame time with com-
Fuente and dignity. Wore
He promulgated a maſs of £lbles, which "4
nen! to have received from heaven; but
he alſo gained battles. Devotion and the
pleaſures of love divided his leiſure. After en-
Joying for twenty years a power without
bounds, and of which there exiſts no other
example, he announced publicly, that, if he
had committed any act of injuſtice, he was
ready to make reparation. All were filent:
one woman only had the boldneſs to claim a
ſmall ſum of money, He died; and the
enthu-
( 155 )
enthuſiaſm which he communicated to his
People will be ſeen to change the face of three
quarters of the globe. 1
The manners of the Arabians were mit
and dignified ; they admired and cultiyated
poetry : and when they reigned over the fineſt
countries of Aſia, and time had eooled the
fever of fanaticiſm, a taſte for literature and
the ſciences mixed with their zeal for the
propagation of religion, and abated thei
ardour for conqueſts,
They ſtudied Ariſtotle, whoſe —__ they
tranſlated. They cultivated aftronomy, opties,
all the branches of medicine, and enriched the
ſciences with ſome new truths: To them we
owe the general application of algebra, which
was confined among the Greeks to a ſingle
claſs of queſtions, If the chimerical purſuit
af a ſecret for the tranſmutation of metals,
and a draught for the perpetuating of life de»
graded their chymical reſearches, they were
the reſtorers, or more properly ſpeaking the
inventors, of this ſcience, which had hitherto
been confounded with medicine and the ſtudy
of the proceſſes of the arts. Among them it
n for the firſt time in its ſimple form,
a fait. &
6156)
a ſtrict analyſis of bodies for the purpoſe of
aſcertaining their elements, a theory of the
combinations of matter and the laws to which
thoſe combinations are ſubjected. |
The ſciences were free, and to that freedom
they owed their being able to reyive ſome
ſparks of the Grecian genius ; but the people
were ſubjected to the unmitigated deſpotiſm
of religion. Accordingly this light ſhone for
_ _ " a few moments only to give place to a thicker
+ darkneſs; and theſe labours of the Arabs
would have been loſt to the human race, if
they had not ſerved to prepare that more
durable reſtoration, of which the Weſt will
preſently exhibit to us the picture.
We thus ſee, for the ſecond time, genius
abandoning nations whom it had enlightened; |
but it was in this, as in*the preceding in-
ſtance, from before tyranny and ſuperſtition
that it was obliged to diſappear. Born in
Greece, by the ſide of liberty, it was neither
able to arreſt the fall of that country, nor de-
fend reaſon againſt the prejudices of the
people already degraded by ſlavery. Born
among the Arabs, in the midſt of deſpotiſm,
| Rech as it were, in the cradle of a fanatical
religion,
( 1577 )
religion, it has only, like the generous and
brilliant character of that people, furniſhed a
; tranſient exception to the general laws of na-
ture, that condemn to brutality and ignorance
enſlaved and ſuperſtitious nations.
But this ſecond example ought not to
terrify us reſpecting the future: it ſhould
operate only as a warning upon our contem-
poraries not to neglect any means of pre-
ſerving and augmenting knowledge, if they
wiſh either to become or to remain free; and
to maintain their freedom, if they would not
loſe the advantages * knowledge has pro-
cured them.
To the account of the labours of ths Ana
I ſhall ſuggeſt the outlines of the ſudden riſe
and precipitate fall of that nation, which, after
reigning from the borders of the Atlantic
ocean to the banks of the Indus, driven by the
barbarians from the greater part of its con-
queſts, retaining the reſt only to exhibit
therein the ſhocking ſpectacle of a people de-
generated to the loweſt ſtate of ſervitude, cor-
ruption and wretchedneſs, ſtill occupies its
ancient "country, where it has preſerved its
. its ſpirit ang its character, and
learned
( 158 )
learned to regain and defend its former | in-
dependence.
I ſhall add that the celipion of Mama;
the moſt ſimple in its dogmas, the leaft abſurd
in its practices, above all others tolerant
In its principles, ſeems to have condemned to
an eternal ſlavery, to an incurable ſtupidity,
all that vaſt portion of the earth in which it
has extended its empire; while we are about
to ſee the genius of ſcience and of liberty
blaze forth anew under ſuperſtitions more
abſurd, and in the midſt of the moſt bar-
barous intolerance. China exhibits a ſimilar
phenomenon, though the effects of this ſtupe-
fyin g poiſon have there been leſs fatal.
SEVENTH
—
1590)
SEVENTH EPOCH.
From the frf Progreſs of rhe Sciences about the
Period of their Revival in the Weſt, to the
Invention of the Art of Printing.
A Variety of circumſtances have concurred
to reſtore by degrees that energy to the
human mind, which, from chains ſo degrading
and ſo heavy, one might have ſuppoſed Was
cruſhed for ever.
The intolerance of 3 their eagerneſs
to graſp at political power, their abominable
avarice, their diſſolute manners, rendered more
_ diſguſting by their hypocriſy, excited againſt .
them every honeſt heart, every unbiaſſed un-
derſtanding, and every courageous character.
It was impoſſible not to be ſtruck with the
contradiction between their dogmas, maxims
and conduct, and thoſe of the evangeliſts, from
which their faith and ſyſtem of morals had
originated, and which they had been unable
totally to conceal from the e of the
people.
Accord-
* "
( 160 ) F
Reg
Accordingly, powerful outcries were raiſed
againſt them. In the centre of France whole
provinces united for the adoption of a more
ſimple doctrine, a purer ſyſtem of Chriſtianity,
in which, ſubjected only to the worſhip of a
ſingle Divinity, man was permitted to judge, |
from his own reaſon, of what that Divinity
had condeſcended to reveal in the books ſaid
to have emanated from him. |
Fanatic armies, conducted by ambitious
chiefs, laid waſte the provinces. Executioners,
under the guidance of legates and prieſts, put
to death thoſe whom the ſoldiers had ſpared. ©
A tribunal of monks was eſtabliſhed, with .
powers of condemning to the ſtake whoever
ſhould be ſuſpected po I'S uſe of his
reaſon.
Meanwhile they could not prevent a ſoirit |
of freedom and enquiry from making a ſilent
and furtive progreſs. Cruſhed in one country,
in which it had the temerity to ſhew itſelf,
in which, more than once, intolerant hypo-
criſy kindled the moſt ſanguinary wars, it
ſtarted up, or ſpread ſecretly in another. It is
ſeen at every interval, till the period, when,
aided by the invention of the prefs, it gained
1 nes | ſuffeiem 5
66.)
ſufficient power to reſcue a portion of Europe
from the yoke of the court of Rome.
Even already. there exiſted a claſs of men,
who, freed from the inglorious bondage of
ſuperſtition, contented themſelves with ſe-
cretly indulging their contempt, or who at
moſt went no farther than to caſt upon it, for-
| tuitouſly as it were, ſome traits of a ridicule,
which was by ſo much the more ſtriking on
account of the uniform reſpect with which
they took care to clothe it. The pleaſantry of
the writer obtained favour for the boldneſſes
of his pen. They were ſcattered with mo-
deration through works deſtined for the
amuſement of men of rank or of letters, and
which never reached the maſs of the people;
for which reaſon they did not excite che re-
ſentment of the bigot.
Frederie the — was fuſpeQed of vel
what our prieſts of the eighteenth century have
ſinee denominated a philgopher. He was ac»
cuſed by the Pope, before all the nations of
Europe, of having treated the religions f
Moſes, Jeſus, and Mahomet, as political fa-
bles. To his chancellor, Pierre des Vignes,
was attributed the imaginary book of the
M Three
"i
I
1
|
( 50
| Three Maped, ieh never had any exiſt-
ence but in the calumnies of ſome, or the in-
genious ſportiveneſs of others, but of which
the very title announced the exiſtence of an
opinion, the natural reſult of an examination
of theſe three creeds, which, derived from the
ſame ſource, were only a corruption of a leſs
impure worſhip rendered by the moſt remote
nations of antiquity to the univerſal foul of |
the world.
Our collections of. wraditional and the
Ewan of Bocace, are full of traits cha-
racteriſtic of this freedom of thought, this
contempt of prejudices, this inclination to
make them the funded of ſecret and acrimo-
nious deriſion. ,
Thus we are furniſhed | in this FOR at one
ad the ſame period, with tranquil ſatiriſts of
all degrees of fuperſtition, and enthuſiaſtical
_ reformers of its groſſeſt abuſes; and the hiſtory
of theſe obſcure invectives, theſe proteſts in
favour of the rights of reaſon, may be almoſt -
connected with that of the moſt . diſ-
ciples of the ſchool of Alexandria.
We ſhall enquire if, when philoſophical
en was attended with ſuch peril, ſe-
cret
*
* 2
7 4 I N (4 ini
N 2 * F
. 7
cret ſocieties were not formed, whoſe object
was to perpetuate, to ſpread ſilently and with-
out riſk, among ſome diſciples and adepts,
a few ſimple truths which might operate as a
preſervative againſt prevailing prejudice.
We ſhall examine whether we ought not
to rank in the number of ſuch ſocieties that
celebrated order, which popes and kings con-
ſpired againſt with ſuch meanneſs, and de-
ſtroyed with ſo much barbarity. 1
Prieſts, either for ſelf-defence, or to invent
pretexts by which to cover their uſurpations
over the ſecular power, and to improve them-
ſelves in the art of forging paſſages of ſcrip-
ture, were under the neceſſity of applying
themſelves to ſtudy. Kings, on the other
hand, to conduct with leſs diſadvantage this
war, in which the claims were made to reſt
upon authority and precedent, patroniſed
ſchools, that might furniſh civilians, of whom
they ſtood in 1 80 to IN on an equality with |
the enemy.
In theſe Gifpures b. 8 the clo od the
governments, between the clergy» of each
country and the ſupreme head of the church,
1 0 of more honeſt minds, and af a more
M 2 | frank
K
frank and liberal character, vindicated the
eaufe of men againſt that of prieſts, the cauſe
of the national clergy againſt the defpotiſm of
the foreign chief. They attacked abuſes and
uſurpations, of which they attempted to un-
veil the origin. To us this boldneſs ſcarcely
appears at pteſent ſuperior to ſervile timidity ;
we ſmile at feeing ſuch a profuſion of labour
employed to prove what good ſenſe alone was
competent to have taught; but the truths to
which I refer, at that time new; frequently
decided the fate of a people: theſe men ſought
fended them with firmneſs; and to their in-
fluence is ĩt to be aſcribed; that human reaſon
mw ' to recover the nnn of He Fights |
In the ks that wok hh 3 che
kings and the nobles; the kings ſecured the
ſupport of the principal towns, either by
granting privileges, or hy reſtoring ſome of
the natural rights af man: they endeavoured,
by means of emancipations, to increaſe. the
number of thoſe who enjoyed the common
right of citizens. And, theſe men, re-born
as it were to liberty, felt how much it be-
8 T4 | hoved
({ 165: 9
hoved them, by the ſtudyof law and of hiftory;
to acquire a fund of information, an authority
of opinion, that might ſerve to counterhalance
- The rivalſhip that exiſted between the
emperors and the popes prevented Italy from
uniting under a ſingle maſter, and preferued
there a great number of independent ſocieties!
In theſe petty ſtates, it was neceſſary to add
the power of perſuaſion to that of force, and
to employ negociation as often as arms: and
as this political war was founded, in reality, in
a war of opinion, and as Italy had never ab-
ſolutely loſt its taſte for ſtudy, this countiy
may be conſidered, reſpecting Europe, as 3
ſeedplot of knowledge, inconſiderable indeed
as yet, but which n a {peogy JN Vis
1 increaſe, > ( { *
In fine, | hurried on by: ralighail ths
| Gali the weſtern nations engaged in the con-
queſt of places rendered holy, as it was ſaid;
by the miracles and death of Chriſt: and this
zeal, at the ſame time that it was favourable
to liberty, by weakening and impoveriſhing
the nobles, extended the connection of the
n of Europe with the Arabians, a con-
M3 ITT nection
*
= as
cy * E
e , o *
nection which their mixture with Spain had
before formed, and their commerce with Piſa,
SGenda, and Venice cemented. | Their lan-
guage. was ſtudied, their books were read,
part of their diſcoveries was acquired; and if
the Europeans did not ſoar above the point in
which the ſciences had been left by the Ara-
bians, 988 at ara telt che ambition of rival
ing them. | | |
| Theſe VE edits; ich ons
3 ſerved to deſtroy ſuperſtition- The
ſpectacle of ſuch a multitude of religions ex-
eited at length in men af ſenſe a total indiffer-
ence for creeds, alike impotent in refining the
_ paſſions, and curing the vices of mankind; a
uniform contempt for that attachment, equally
ſincere, equally obſtinate, of ſectaries, to opi-
nions contradictory to each other.
Kepublics were formed in Italy, of —
1 were imitations of the Greek republics,
While others attempted to reconcile, the ſervi-
tude of a ſubject people with the liberty and =
_ democratic equality of a ſovereign one. | In
Germany, in the north, ſome towns, obtain-
ing almoſt entire independence, were governed
| = their own law. In certain parts of Switzers
Borts | land,
*
.
( 67 1 5
land, the ben We off the chains both * |
feodal and of royal power. In almoſt all
the great ſtates. imperfect conſtitutions ſprung
up, in which the authority of raiſing ſubſi-
dies, and of making new laws, was divided
| ſometimes between the king, the nobles, the
clergy and the people, and ſometimes between
the king, the barons and the commons; in
which the people, though not yet exempt
from a ſtate of humiliation, were at leaft ſe-
cure from oppreſſion; in which all that truly
compoſed a nation were admitted to the right
of defending its intereſts, and of being heard
by thoſe who had the regulation of its deſtiny.
In England a celebrated act, ſolemnly ſworn
by the king, and great men of the realm, ſe-
cured the rights of the barons, and ſome of
the rights of men. it
Other nations, provinces, and even» cities,
obtained alſo charters of a ſimilar nature, but
| leſs celebrated, and not ſo ſtrenuouſly defended.
They are. the origin of thoſe declarations of
rights, regarded at preſent by every enlightened
mind as the baſis of liberty, and of which the
ancients neither had nor could have an idea,
becauſe their inſtitutions were ſullied by do-
M 4 meitic
(168 )
meſtic ſlavery, becauſe with them the right of
citizenſhip was hereditary; or conferred by
voluntary adoption, and becauſe they never
arrived at the knowledge of rights which are
Inherent in the ſpecies, and belong with A
ſtrict equality to all mankind. - 115771
In France, England, and other } 0 na-
1 5 the people appeared deſirous of re-
ſuming their true rights; but blinded by the
ſenſe of oppreſſion, rather than enlightened
by reaſon, the only fruit of its efforts were
outrages, that were ſoon expiated by acts of
vengeance more barbarous, and particularly
more unjuſt, and pillages e wal
e miſery than either..
In England the principles of Wicklifle, the
reformer; had given riſe to one of theſe com-
motions, carried on under the direction of
ſome of his diſciples, and which afforded a
preſage of attempts, more ſyſtematic and bet-
ter combined, that would be made by the
people under other Wen and in a more
enlightened age.
The diſcovery of a e of the Juli.
nian code produced the revival of the ſtudy
of „ as well as of legiſlation, and
Wy | ſerv a
{ x69 ) —
ſerved to render 'theſe . leſs barbarous even
among the people who knew how to derive
profit from the diſcovery, without rating the
code as of ſacred obligation.
The commerce of Piſa, a 1.
1 ſome cities of Belgia, and free towns
of Germany, embraced; the Mediterranean,
the Baltic, and the coaſts of the European
ocean. The precious commodities of the Le-
vant were ſought by the merchants of thoſe
places in che ports of reypt, and at e erte.
mities of the Black Sea
+ . Polity, legiſlation, 3 economy, 1 were
not yet converted into ſciences, the principles
of them were neither enquired after, inveſti-
gated, nor developed; but as the mind be-
gan to be enlightened. by experience, ohſerva -
tions were collected tending to lead thereto,
and men became verſed in the intereſts that
muſt eauſe the want of them to be felt.
Alriſtotle was only known at firſt by a tran»
ſlation of his works made from the Arabic.
His philoſophy, perſecuted. at the beginning,
ſoon gained footing in all the ſchools. It in-
troduced there no new light, but it gave more
| 3 more met to that art of rea-
ſoning
( 170 )
:
ſoning which theological diſputes had called
into exiſtence. This ſcholaſtic diſcipline did
not lead to the diſcovery of truth; it did not
even ſerve for the diſcuſſion and accurate va-
Tuation of its proofs, but it whetted'the minds
of men; and the taſte for ſubtle diſtinctions,
the neceſſity of continually dividing and ſub-
dividing ideas, of ſeizing their niceſt ſhades,
and expreſſing them in new words, the appa-
ratus which was in the firſt inſtance employed
to embarraſs one's enemy in a diſpute, or to
eſeape from his toils, was the original ſource
of that philoſophical analyſts to which we
have ſince been ſo gy i e pe our
intellectual progreſs.
Jo theſe diſciplinarians we ere indebted. for
the greater accuracy that may have been ob-
tained reſpecting the Supreme Being and his at-
tributes; ; reſpecting the diſtinction between the
firſt cauſe, and the univerſe which it is ſuppoſed
to govern ; reſpecting the farther diſtinction
between mind and matter; reſpecting the dif-
ferent ſenſes that may be-affixed*to the word
tiberty ; reſpecting the meaning of the word
ereatiin'; reſpecting the manner of diſtinguiſh-
| mg from each other che different operations
401 .
r
| of the human mind, and of claſſing the ideas
it forms of objects and their properties.
But this method cou not fail to retard in
the ſchools) the advancement of the natural
ſcienees. Accordingly the whole picture of
theſe ſciences at this period will be found
merely to comprehend a few anatomical re-
ſearches; ſome obſcure productions of chy-
miſtry, employed in the diſcovery of the
grand ſecret alone; @ light application to
geometry and algebra, that fell ſhort of the
diſcoveries of the Arabians, and did not even
extend to a complete underſtanding: of the
works of the ancients; and laſtly, ſome aftros
nomical ſtudies and calculations, confined to
the formation and improvement of tables, and
depraved by an abſurd mixture of aſtrologys
Meanwhile.the mechanical arts began to ap-
proach the degree of perfection which they
had preſerved in Aſia. In the ſouthern coun-
tries of Europe the culture of ſilk was intro-
duced; windmills as well as paper-mills were
eſtabliſhed ; and the art of meaſuring time
ſurpaſſed the bounds which it had acquired
either among the Ancients or the Arabians.
In ſhort, two important diſcoveries cha-
derte this epoch. The property poſſeſſed
by
( 192 )
10 the Chineſe, and employed by them in
ſteering their veſſels, was alſo obſerved in
Europe. , The compaſs came into muſe, an in-
ſtrument which gave activity ta commerce,
improved the art of navigation, ſuggeſted the
the knowledge of a new world, and enabled
man to take a ſurvey of the whole extent of
the globe on which he is placed. A chymiſt,
by mixing an inflammable matter with ſalt-
petre, diſcovered the ſecret of that powder
which has produced ſo unexpected a revolu-
non in the art of war. Notwithſtanding the
terrible effect of fire - arma, in diſperſing an
army, they. have rendered war leſs murder-
ous, and its combatants: leſs brutal. Military
by the loadſtone, of pointing always to tle
fame quarter of the heavens, a property known
expeditions are more expenſive; wealth can
balance force; even the moſt warlike people
feel the neceſſity of providing and ſecuring
the means of combating, hy the acquiſition of
the riches of commerce and the arts. | Poliſhed
nations have no longer any thing to appre-
hend from the blind courage of barbarian
tribes. Great conqueſts, and the revolutions
| we — are bedeme almoſt impoſſible,
3 That
1
That ſuperiority which an armour of iron,
vrhich the art of conducting a horſe almoſt
invulnerable from his accoutrements, of ma-
naging the lance, the club, or the ſword, gave
the uobility over the people, is completely
done away; and the removal of this impedi-
ment to the liberty and real equality of man-
kind, is the reſult of an invention, that, at the
firſt glance, ſeemed to threaten the total extir-
pation of the human race.
In Italy, the language arrived almoſt atits
perfection about the fourteenth century. The
ſtyle of Dante is often grand, preciſe, ener-
getic. Boccace is graceful, ſimple,” and ele-
gant, The ingenious: and tender Petrarch has
not yet become obſolete. In this country,
whoſe happy climate nearly reſembles that of
Greece, the models of antiquity were ſtudied ;
attempts were made to transfuſe into the PEE:
language ſome of their beauties, and, to pro-
duce new beauties of a ſimilar ſtamp. Al-
ready ſome productions gave reaſon to hope
that, rouſed by the view of ancient monu-
ments, inſpired by thoſe mute but eloquent
leſſons, genius was about, for the ſecond'time,
to ee n of * ang
,
$3 n,
Lis)
fork! him thoſe pure pleaſures, the enjoyment of
Which is free to all, and becomes (veer in
| propontion as it is participated,
Ihe reſt of Europe followed at an en
e; but a-taſte for letters and poetry
& bern at leaſt to give a poliſh to gages
that were till in a ſtate almoſt of barbarity.
Ihe fame motives which had rouſed the
mis of men from their long lethargy, muſt
alſo have directed their exertions. Reaſon
could not be appealed to for the deciſion of
queſtions, of which oppoſite intereſts had
compelled the diſcuſſion. Religion; far from
acknowledging its power, boaſted of having
ſubjected and humbled: it. Politics conſidered
as juſt what had been conſecrated by compact,
by conſtant practice, and ancient cuſtoms.
No doubt was entertained that the rights of
man were written in the book of nature, and
that to conſult any other would be to depart
from and to violate them. Meanwhile it was
| _ only i in the ſacred books, in reſpected authors,
in the bulls of popes, in the reſcripts of kings,
in regiſters of old uſages, and in the annals of
the church, that maxims or examples were
ſought from which to infer thoſe rights. The
bulineſs was never to examine the intrinſic
mer its
(195: Þ
merits of a principle, but to interpret, to ap-
preciate, to ſupport or to annul by other texts
thoſe upon which it might be founded. A
propoſition was not adopted becauſe. it was
true, but becauſe it was written in this or that |
book, and had been embraced i in pu a coun-
try and fuch an age. 1
Thus the authority of men was | Every —
ſubſtituted. for that of .reaſon : books were
much more ſtudied than nature, and the opi-
nions of antiquity. obtained the preference
over the phenomena of the univerſe. This
bondage of the mind, in which men had not
then the advantage of enlightened criticiſm,
was ſtill more detrimental to the - progreſs of
the human ſpecies, by corrupting the method
of ſtudy, than by its immediate effects. And
the ancients were yet too far from being
equalled, to think af correcting or lurpaſſing
them,
: Manners 1 during this ents cake
corruption and ferocity; religious intolerance
was even more active; 3 and civil diſcords, and.
the inceſſant wars of a crowd of petty; ſove-
reigns, ſucceeded the invaſions of the barba-
Hanks and the peſt, Rill more fatal, of ſangui-
- 1 n x :
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;
t
i
!
:
i
i
|
1
9
11
1
:
: i
ö
in
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.
r
naty feuds, The gallantry indeed of the min-
ſtrels and the troubadours, the inſtitution of
orders of chivalry, profeſſing generoſi ity and
frankneſs, devoting themſelves to the main-
tenance of religion, the relief of the op-
preſſed, and the ſervice of the fair, were cal -
culated to infuſe into manners more mildneſs,
decorum, and dignity. But the change, con-
fined to courts and caſtles, reached not to the
bulk of the people. There reſulted from it a
| little more equality among the nobles, leſs
perfidy and cruelty in their relations with
each other; but their contempt for the peo-
ple, the inſolence of their tyranny, their au-
dacious robberies, continued the fame; and
nations, oppreſſed as before, were as before
ignorant, barbarous and corrupt. - |
This poetical and military gallantry, this
chivalry, derived in great meaſure from the
Arabians, whoſe natural generoſity long re-
ſiſted in Spain ſuperſtition and deſpotiſm, had
doubtleſs their uſe: they diffuſed the ſeeds
of humanity, vrhich were deſtined in happier
periods to [exhibit their fruit; and it was the
general character of this epoch, that it diſ-
a the human mind for the revolution
which
.
( 177)
which the diſcovery of printing could not
but introduce, and prepared the ſoil which
the following ages were to cover with ſo rich
and ſo abundant an harveſt, _
\ | T
- * ” oy — — 4
:
k » 1 5 »” + * . wi "S k 4% | 1
0
( 138 )
"Ow EIGHTH. EPOCH.
From the Invention of Printing, to ts Peru
when the Sciences and Philoſophy threw of
the Yoke of Authority.
Tuosk who have reflected but ſuperficially
upon the march of the human mind in the
diſcovery, whether of the truths of ſcience,
or of the proceſſes of the arts, muſt be aſto-
niſhed that ſo long a period ſhould elapſe be-
tween the knowledge of the art of taking im-
preſſions of drawings, and the diſcovery of
that of printing characters.
Some engravers of plates had doubtleſs con-
ceived this idea of the application of their art;
but they were more ſtruck with the difficulty
of executing it, than with the advantages of
ſucceſs: and it is fortunate that they did not
comprehend i it in all its extent ; fince prieſts
and kings would infallibly have united to
ſtifle, from its birth, the enemy that was to
unmaſk their hypocriſy, and hurl them from
their thrones. ö
The
( 179 )
Ihe preſs multiplies indefinitely, and at a
fall expence, copies of any work. Thoſe
who can read are hence enabled to furniſh
themſelves with books. Auitable to their taſte
and their wants; and this facility of exerciſing |
the talent of reading, has increaſed and: pro-
pagated the deſire of learning it. W 721
Theſe. multiplied copies, ſpreading ch
ſelves with greater rapidity, facts and diſco-
veries not only acquire a more extenſive pub-
licity, but acquire it alſo. in a ſhorter ſpace of
time. Knowledge has become the objetk of
an active and univerſal commerce. ce
Printers were obliged to ſeek ee
as we ſeek at preſent Works of extraordinary
genius. What was read before by a few ins
dividuals only, might now be peruſed by a
whole people, and ſtrike almoſt at the ſame |
inſtant every man that underſtood the ZANE
language. [5 | : 5
The means ire adquited of ed re- |
mote and diſperſed nations. A new. ſpecies of
tribune is eſtabliſhed, from which are: com-
municated impreſſions leſs lively, but at che
ſame time more ſolid and profound; from
which 1s exerciſed over the paſſions. an empire
N 2 leſs
TT
leſs tyrannical, but over reaſon a power more
certain and durable; where all the advantage
is on the ſide of truth, ſince what the art may
loſe in point of ſeduction, is more than coun-
terbalanced by the illumination it conveys. A
public opinion is formed, powerful by the
number of thoſe who ſhare in it, energetic, be-
cauſe the motives that determine it a& upon
all minds at once, though at conſiderable dif-
tances from each other. A tribunal is erected
in favour of reafon and juſtice, independent
of all human power, from the penetration of
which it is difficult to conceal any thing, from
whoſe verdict there is no eſcape.
New inventions, the hiſtory of the firſt ſteps
In the road to a diſcovery, the labours that
prepare the way for it, the views that ſuggeſt
the idea or give riſe merely to the with of pur-
ſuing it, theſe, communicating themſelves with
celerity, furniſh every individual with the
united means which- the efforts of all have
been able to create, and genius appears to
have more than doubled its powers:
„Every new error is reſiſted from its birth:
frequently attacked before it has diſſeminated
itſelf, it has not time to take root in the mind.
Thoſe
„
Thoſe which, imbibed from infancy, are iden-
tified in a manner with the reaſon of every in-
dividual, and by the influence of hope or of
terror endeared to the exiſtence of weak un-
derſtandings, have been ſhaken, from this cir-
cumſtance alone, that it is now impoſſible to
prevent their diſcuſſion, impoſſible to conceal
that they are capable of being examined and
rejected, impoſlible they ſhould withſtand the
progreſs of truths which, daily acquiring new
light, muſt conclude at laſt with diſplaying all
the abſurdity of ſuch errors.
It is to the preſs we owe the poſlibility of
ſpreading thoſe publications which the emer-
gency of the moment, or the tranſient fluctu-
ations of opinion, may require, and of in-
tereſting thereby in any queſtion, treated in a
ſingle point of view, whole communities of
men reading and underflanding the ſame lan-
guage.
All thoſe means which cheer the: av
of the human mind more eaſy, more rapid,
more certain, are alſo the benefits of the preſs.
Without the inſtrumentality of this art, ſuch
books could not have been multiplied as are
adapted to every claſs of readers, and every de-
oY = ghree
( 182]
gree of inſtruction. To the preſs we owe thoſe
continued diſcuſſions which alone can en-
lighten doubtful queſtions, and fix upon an
immoveable baſis, truths too abſtract, too ſub-
tile, too remote from the prejudices of the
people, or the common opinion of the learned,
not to be ſoon forgotten and loſt. To the preſs
we owe thoſe books purely elementary, dic-
tionaries, works in which are collected, with
all their details, a multitude of facts, obſerva-
tions, and experiments, in which all their
proofs are developed, all their difficulties in-
veſtigated. To the preſs we owe thoſe valu-
able compilations, containing ſometimes all
that has been diſcoyered, written, thought,
upon a particular branch of ſcience, and ſome-
times the reſult of the annual labours of all the
literati of a country. To the preſs we owe
thoſe tables, thoſe catalogues, thoſe pictures
of every kind, of which ſome. exhibit a view
of inductions which the mind could only have
acquired by the moſt tedious operations;
others preſent at will the fact, the diſcovery,
the number, the method, the object which we
are deſirous of aſcertaining; while others again
furniſh, in a more commodious form, and a
En
7 183 )
more arranged order, the materials from which
genius may faſhion and derive new truths... ..
To theſe benefits we ſhall have occaſion to
add others, when we proceed to analyſe, the
effects that have ariſen from ' the: ſubſtitution
of the vernacular tongue of each country, in
the room of the almoſt excluſive application,
which had preceded, ſo far as relates to the
ſciences, of one language, the common me-
dium of W dN Wenn the learged
of all nations.
In ſhort, is it not che 8 9 55 4
the inſtruction of the people from every poli»
tical and religious chain? In vain might either
deſpotiſm invade our ſchools ; in vain might.
it attempt, by rigid inſtitutions, invariably. to
fix what truths ſhall be preſerved in them,
what errors inculcated on the mind; in vain
might chairs, conſecrated to the moral in-
ſtruction of the people, and the tuition, of
youth in philoſophy and the ſciences, be
obliged to deliver no doctrines but ſuch as are
favourable to this double tyranny: the preſa
can diffuſe at the ſame time a pure and inde-
pendent light, That inſtruction which is to
be ae from books in ſilence and ſolitude,
\
— gg nm an — — - - - —
* — os _— — — ——— nee Y
———————— — . —
them ? Could it be done without obliging the
( is )
can never be univerſally corrupted: a ſingle
corner of the earth free to commit their leaves
to the preſs, would be a ſufficient ſecurity.
How amidſt that variety of productions,
amidſt that multitude of exiſting copies of the
ſame book, amidſt impreſſions continually
renewed, will it be poſſible to ſhut ſo cloſely
all the doors of truth, as to leave no opening,
no crack or crevice by which it may enter ?
If it was difficult even when the buſineſs was
to deſtroy a few copies only of a manuſcript,
to prevent for ever its revival, when it was
ſufficient to proſcribe a truth, or opinion, for -
a certain number of years to devote it to eter-
nal oblivion, is not this difficulty now ren-
dered impoſſible, when it would require a
vigilance inceſſantly occupied, and an activity
chat ſhould never {lumber ? And even ſhould
ſucceſs attend the ſuppreſſion of thoſe too
palpable truths, that wound directly the in-
tereſts of inquiſitors, how are others to be pre-
vented from penetrating and ſpreading, which
include thoſe proſcribed truths without ſuffer-
ing them to be perceived, which prepare the
way, and myſt one day infallibly lead to
per-
*
—
( 185 )
perſonages in queſtiqn to throw off that maſk
ok hypocriſy, the fall of which would prove no
leſs fatal than truth itſelf to the reign of error ?
We ſhall accordingly ſee reaſon triumphing
over theſe yain efforts: we ſhall ſee her in
this war, a war continually reviving, and fre-
quently cruel, ſucceſsful alike againſt violence
and ſtratagem; braving the flames, and reſiſt-
ing ſeduction; cruſhing in turn, under its
mighty hand, both the fanatical hypocriſy
which requires for its dogmas a fincere-adora-
yon, and the politigal hypocriſy imploring on
its knees that it may be allowed to enjoy in
peace the profit of errors, in which, if you
will take its word, it is no leſs advantageous
to the people than to itſelf, that they ſhould
for ever be plunged,
The invention of the art of printing nearly
coincides with two other events, of which one
has exerciſed an immediate influence on the
progreſs of knowledge, while the influence of
the other on the deſtinyof the whole human
ſpecies gan never ceaſe but with the es
3tlelf;..-..
1 refer to the taking of Conſtantinople by
ts rn and the OT both of the new
world,
( 186 )
| world, and of the route which has opened
to Europe a dire& communication with che
eaſtern parts of Africa and Aſia. |
The Greek literati, flying from the ſo-
vereignty of the Tartars, ſought an aſylum in
Italy. They acquired the ability of. reading,
in their original language, the poets, orators,
hiſtorians, . philoſophers, and antiquarians of
Greece. They firſt furniſhed manuſcripts,
and ſoon after editions of the works of thoſe
authors. The veneration of the ſtudious was
no longer confined to what they agreed in
calling the doctrine of Ariſtotle. They ſtudied
this doctrine in his own writings. They ven-
tured to inveſtigate and oppoſe it. They
contraſted him with Plato: and it was ad-
vancing a ſtep towards throwing off the yoke,
to acknowledge in themſelves the * of
chooſing a maſter, ;
The peruſal, of Euclid, undd Dio-
phantus, and Ariſtotle's philoſophical book
upon animals, rekindled the genius of natu-
ral philoſophy and of geometry; while the an-
tichriſtian opinions of philaſophers awakened |
ideas that were almoſt extinct of the —_ |
prerogatives of human reaſon. 8 9
1
Intrepid individuals, inſtigated by the love
of glory and a paſſion for diſcoveries, had
extended for Europe the bounds of the uni-
verſe, had exhibited a new heaven, and
opened to its view an unknown earth. Gama
had penetrated into India, after having pur-
ſued with indefatigable patience the immenſe
extent of the African coaſts ; while Columbus,
conſigning him to the waves of the Atlantik
ocean, had reached that country, hitherto un-"
known, extending from the welt of n, 5
to the eaſt of Aſia,
If this paſſion, whoſe reſtleſs avg; we
bracing at that period every object, gave pro-
miſe of advantages highly important to the
progreſs of the human ſpecies, if a noble cu-
rioſity had animated the heroes of navigation,
a mean and cruel avarice, a ſtupid and brutal
fanaticiſm governed the kings and robbers who
were to reap the proſits of their labour. The |
unfortunate beings who inhabited theſe new
countries were not treated as men, becauſe |
they were not chriſtians, - This prejudice,
more degrading to the tyrants than the vic-
1 ſtifled all ſenſe of. 2 and 1
T — =
| oble
2
188)
able thirſt for gold and for blood, thoſe greedy
and unfeeling men that Europe diſgorged from
| her. boſom. The bones of five millions of
human beings have covered the wretched
countries to which the Spaniards and Portu- -
gueꝛe tranſported their avarice, their ſuper-
ſtition, and their fury. Theſe bones will
. plead to everlaſting ages againſt the doctrine
of the political utility of religions, which is
Kill able to find its apologiſts in the world.
It is in this epoch only of the progreſs of
the human mind, that man has arrived at the
knowledge of the globe which he inhabits;
that he has been able to ſtudy, in all its coun-
tries, the ſpecies to which he belongs, modi-
fied by the continued influence of | natural
cauſes, or of ſocial inſtitutions ; that he has
had an opportunity of obſerving the produc-
tions of the earth, or of the ſea, in all tempera-
tures and climates, And accordingly, among
the happy conſequences of the diſcoveries in
queſtion, may be included the reſources of
every kind which thoſe productiens afford ta
mankind, and which, ſo far from being ex-
hauſted, men have yet no idea, of their ex-
tent; the truths which the knowledge of
| thoſe
(i Y
thoſe objects may have added to the ſciences;
or the long received errors that may thereby
have been deſtroyed ; the commercial activity
that has given new life to induſtry and navis
gation, and, by a neceſſary chain of connec-
tion, to all the arts and all the ſciences: and
laſtly, the force that free nations have acquired
from this activity by which to reſiſt tyrants,
and ſubjected nations to break their chains,
and free themſelves at leaſt from feodal deſpo-
tiſm. But theſe advantages will never ex-
plate what the diſcoveries have coſt to ſuffer-
ing humanity, till the moment when Europe,
abjuring the ſordid and oppreſſive ſyſtem of
commercial monopoly, ſhall acknowledge that
men of other climates, equals and brothers
by the will of nature, have never been formed
to nouriſh the pride and avarice of a few pri-
vileged nations; till, better informed reſpect-
ing its true intereſts, it ſhall invite all the peo-
ple of the earth to participate in its independ-
ence, its liberty, and its illumination. Un-
fortunately, we have yet to learn . whether
this revolution will be the honourable fruit
of the advancement of philoſophy, or only,
as we have hitherio ſeen, the ſhameful con-
| „ ſequence
— — q a
—— ee rr
— I — . ans.
LY
6 1986)
ſequence of national Aol; and the enör-
mous exceſſes of tyranny.
Till the preſent epoch the crinies of the
prieſthood had eſcaped with impunity. The
cries of oppreſſed humanity, of violated reaſon;
had been ſtifled in flames and in blood, The
ſpirit which dictated thoſe cries was not ex-
tinct: but the filence occaſioned by the opera-
tion of terror emboldened the prieſthood to
farther outrages. At laſt, the ſeandal of farm-
ing to the monks the privilege of ſelling in
taverns and public places the expiation of ſins,
occaſioned a new exploſion. Luther, holding
in one hand the ſacred books, expoſed with
the other the right which the Pope had arro-
gated to himſelf of abſolving crimes and ſelling
_ pardons; the infolerit deſpotiſm which he
exerciſed over the biſhops, for a long time
his equals ; the fraternal ſupper of the primi-
tive chriſtians, converted, under the name of
maſs, into a ſpecies of magical incantation and
an object of commerce; prieſts condemned
to the crime of rovocedls celibacy; the ſame
eruel and | ſcandalous law extended to the
monks and nuns with which pontifical am-
bition had inundated and polluted the church ;
( 191,
all the ſecrets of the. laity conſigned, by means
of confeſſion, to the intrigues and the paſſions f
of prieſts; God himſelf, in ſhort, ſcarcely»
retaining a feeble ſhare, i in the adorations be-
ſtowed in profuſion upon bread, men, bones
and ſtatues. Ao
Luther announced. to 7 5 aſtoniſhed Ki.
titude, that theſe ditguſting inſtitutions formed
no part of chriſtianity, but on the contrary
were its corruption and ſhame ;. and that, to
be faithful to the religion: of Jeſus, it was
firſt of all neceſſary to abjure that of his prieſts.
He employed equally: the arms of logie and
erudition, and the no leſs powerful weapon of
ridicule, He wrote. at once in German and
in Latin. " It- Was no longer as in the days of
the Abigenſes, or of John Huſs, whole doc-
trine, unknown beyond; the walls of their
churches, was ſo; eaſily, calumniated The
German books of the new apoſtles penetrated
at the ſame time into every village of the em-
pire, while their Latin productions rouſed all
Europe from the ſhameful: ſleep into which
ſuperſtition. had plunged, it. Thoſe whoſe
reaſon had outſtripped, the reformers, but
whom fear had retained in filence ; thoſewho
were
Ls
-
————
——ů 2 —
———
— __—_—_—__—— —
— —
p Ore}
— — . — ̃ ö—
ne ter —— —-„—
—
.
— ̃˙ AE EAI PPE 1x. Ih 4
ee Cee —ñ—— —— — — — rn hs
wt — — — — — — . ̃ dl ——
— —̃— . mea
.
* *
-
RR 7
—— — —
8
654)
were tormented with ſecret doubts, but which
they trembled to avow even to their con-
ſeiences; thoſe who, more ſimple, were un-
acquainted with all the extent of theological
abſurdities ; who, having never refle&ted upon
queſtions of controverſy, were aſtoniſhed to
learn that they had the power of chuſing be-
tween different opinions z : entered eagerly into
theſe diſcuſſions, upon which they conceived
depended at once theit temporal intereſts and
their eternal felicity.
All the chriſtian part of Europe, fromm Swe-
48 to Italy, and from Hungary to Spain, was
in an inſtant covered with the partiſans of the
new doctrines; and the reformation would
have delivered Bent the yoke of Rome all the
nations that inhabited it, if the miſtaken policy
of certain princes had not relieved that very
ſacerdotal ſceptre which had fo frequently
fallen upon the heads of kings.
This policy, which their ſucceſſors unhappily
have yet not abjured, was to ruin their ſtates
by ſeeking to add to them, and to meaſure
their power by the extent of their territory,
rather than 25 the number of their Hubjedts.
Thus,
( "93 )
Thus, Charles the fifth and Francis FR firſt, 7
while contending for Italy, ſacrificed to the
Intereſt of keeping well with the Pope, that
ſuperior intereſt of profiting by the advan-
tages offered by the reformation to every
country that ſhould have hs wiſdom to
_— It.
Perceiving that the princes of the empire
were favourable to opinions calculated to aug-
ment their power and their wealth, the empe-
ror became the partiſan and ſupporter of the
old abuſes, actuated by the hope that a reli-
gious war would furniſh an opportunity of
| invading their ſtates, and deſtroying their in-
dependence; while Francis imagined that, by .
burning the proteſtants, and protecting at the
ſame time their leaders in Germany, he ſhould
preſerve the friendſhip of the n N -
loſing his valuable allies. .. 5
But this was not their only motive. Def.
potiſm has alſo its inſtin& ; and that inſtinct
ſuggeſted to theſe kings, that men, after ſub-
jecting religious prejudices to the examination
of reaſon, would foon extend their enquiries
to-prejudices of another ſort ; that, enlightened
upon the uſurpations of popes, they might
*
( "96 }
with at laſt to be equally enlightened upon
thoſe of princes ; and that the reform of eccle-
ſiaſtical abuſes, beneficial as it was to royal
power, might involve the reform of abuſes,
ſtill more oppreſſive, upon which that power
_ conſiderable nation favoured voluntarily the
party of the reformers. Henry the eighth,
terrified at- the pontifical anathema, joined in
the perſecution againſt them. Edward and
Elizabeth, unable to embrace popery without
pronouncing themfelves uſurpers, eſtabliſhed
in England the faith and worſhip. that ap-
Pproached-neareſt to it. The proteſtant mo-
narchs of Great Britain have indeed uniformly
favoured the catholic religion, whenever it
has ceaſed to threaten them with a er
| to the crown. .
In Sweden and SNP op the eſtabliſument
of the religion of Luther was confidered by
their kings only as a neceſſary precaution to
ſecure the expulſion of the catholic tyrant, to
_ whoſe deſpotiſm they ſucceeded ; and in the
Pruſſian monar
cal prince, we already perceive, his ſucceſſor
unable to diſguiſe þis ſecret attachment to this
religion, ſo dear to the hearts of ſovereigns.
, founded by a philoſophi-
7 EL Reli-
For a long time there had exiſted in Europe,
0 «9s )
Religious intolerance was common to every
i and communicated itſelf to all the go«
vernments. The papiſts perſecuted the re-
formed communions; while theſe, pronouneing
anathemas againſt each other, joined at the
fame: time againſt the anti-trinitarians, who,
more conſiſtent in their conduct, had tried
every doctrine, if not by the touchſtone of
reaſon, at leaſt by that of an enlightened cri»
ticiſm, and who did not ſee the neceſſity of
freeing themſelves from one ſpecies of abſur-
dity, to fall into others equally diſguſting. -
This intolerance ſerved the caufeof popery.
and eſpecially in Italy, a claſs of men who, re-.
jecting every kind of ſuperſtition, indifferent
- alike to all modes of worthip, governed only: -
by reaſon, regarded religion as of human in-
vention, at which one might laugh in ſecret,
but towards which prudence and' peg die-
tated an outward reſpect. 5
| This free-thinking aſſumed creeks ſu-
5 perior courage; and, while in the ſchools the
philoſophy of Ariſtotle, imperfectly under-
| ſtood, had been employed to improve the ſub-
tleties * theology, and gender ingenious what
+ 6 would
6
would naturally have borne the features of
abſurdity, ſome men of learning eſtabliſned
upon his true doctrine a ſyſtem deſtructive of
every religious idea, in which the human
ſoul was conſidered only as a faculty that
vaniſhed with life, and in which no other
providence, no other ruler of the world was
admitted than the neceſſary laws of nature.
This ſyſtem was combated by the Platoniſts,
whoſe ſentiments, reſembling what has ſince
been called by the name of deiſm, were more
terrifying {till to ſacerdotal orthodok y.
But the operation of puniſhment ſoon put
gãſtop to this impolitic boldneſs. | Italy and
France were polluted with, the blood of thoſe
martyrs to the freedom of thought. All ſects,
all governments, every ſpecies of authority,
Inimical as they were to each other in every
Point elſe, ſeemed to be of accord in granting
no quarter to the exerciſe of reaſon. It was
neceſſary to cover it with a veil, which,
hiding it from the obſervation of tyrants,
- might ſtill permit it to be ſeen. wel the eye of
philoſophy. X
- Accordingly the moſt timid N was
obſerved ne * ſecret ins, which
L 8 * had
{ 197 *
had never failed of numerous | adherents. 11
had particularly been propagated among the
heads of governments, as well as among thoſe
of the church; and, about the period of the
reformation, the principles of religious Ma-
chiaveliſm became the only creed of princes,
of miniſters, and of pontiffs. Theſe opinions
had even corrupted philoſophy. - What code
of morals indeed was to be expected from a
ſyſtem, of which one of the principles is, that
it is neceſſary to ſupport the morality of the
people by falſe pretences ; that men of en-
lightened minds have a right to deceive them,
provided they impoſe only uſeful truths, and
to retain them in chains from which they have
themſelves contrived to eſcape?
If the natural equality of mankind, the
principal baſis of its rights, be the foundation
of all genuine morality, what could it hope
from a philoſophy, of which an open con-
tempt of this equality and theſe rights is a
diſtinguiſhing feature? This ſame philoſophy
has contributed no doubt to the advancement
of reaſon, whoſe reign it filently prepared;
but ſo long as it was the only philoſophy, its
ſole effect was to. ſubſtitute hypderiſy in
„ A 3
3
94
|
|
Mt
|
>. —— —— 577 7
„
the place of fanaticiſm, and to corrupt, at the
ſame time that it raiſed above prejudices, thoſe
vrho preſided in the deſtiny of ſtates.
Philoſophers truly enlightened, ſtrangers
to ambition, who contented themſelves with
undeceiving men gradually and with cau-
tion, but without ſuffering themſelves at the
ſame time to confirm them in their errors,
theſe philoſophers would naturally have
been inclined to embrace the reformation:
but, deterred by the intolerance that every
where diſplayed itſelf, the majority were of
opinion that they ought not to expoſe them-
ſelves to the inconveniences of a change,
when, by ſo doing, they would ſtill be ſub-
jected to ſimilar reſtraint. As they muſt have
continued to ſhew a reſpect for abſurdities
which they had already rejected, they ſaw
no mighty advantage in having 'the num-
ber ſomewhat diminiſhed ; they were fear-
ful alſo of expoſing themſelves, by their
abjuration, to the appearance of a volun-
tary hypocriſy ; and thus, by perſevering
in their attachment to- the old religion, they
ftrengthened it with the A of their
reputation. e
690%
The ſpirit which animated * reformers
did not introduce a real freedom of ſenti-
ment. Each religion, in the country in which
it prevailed, had no indulgehce but for cer-
tain opinions. Meanwhile, as the different
creeds were oppoſed to each other, few opi-
nions exiſted that had not been attacked or
ſupported in ſome part of Europe. The new
communions had beſide been obliged to relax
a little from their dogmatical rigour. They
could not, without the groſſeſt contradiction,
confine the right of examination within the
pale of their own church, fince upon this right
was founded the legitimacy of their ſepara-
tion. If they refuſed to reſtore to reaſon. its
full liberty, they at leaſt conſented that its pri-
fon ſhould be leſs confined : the chains were
not broken, but they were rendered leſs bur-
thenſome and more permanent. In ſhort, in
thoſe countries where a fingle religion had
found it impracticable to oppreſs all the
others, there was eſtabliſhed what the inſo?-
lence of the ruling ſe& called by the name of
toleration, that is, a permiſſion, granted by
ſome men to other men, to believe what their
"ou adopts, to do what their conſcience
2 | O 4 ditctates
(200)
dictates to them, to pay to their common God
the homage they may think beſt calculated to
pleaſe him: and in theſe countries the tole-
rated doctrines might then be vindicated with
more or leſs freedom. 2
We thus ſee making its appearance in
Europe a ſort of freedom of thought, not for
men, but for chriſtians: and, if we except
France, for chriſtians only does it any where
exiſt to this day.
But this intolerance obliged 1 165
to ſeek the recovery of rights too long for-
gotten, or which rather had never been pro-
perly known and underſtood. |
Aſhamed at ſeeing the people FRO? in
the very ſanctuary of their conſcience, by
kings, the ſuperſtitious or political ſlaves of
the prieſthood, ſome generous individuals
dared at length to inveſtigate the foundations
of their power ; and they revealed this grand
truth to the world: that liberty is a bleſſing
which cannot be alienated; that no title, no
convention in favour of tyranny, can bind a
nation to a particular family; that magiſtrates,
whatever may be their appellation, their func-
tions, or their power, are the agents, not the
maſters,
1
maſters, of the people; that the people have
the right of withdrawing an authority origi-
nating in themſelves alone, whenever that
authority ſhall be abuſed, or ſhall ceaſe to be
thought uſeful to the intereſts of the commu-
nity : and laſtly, that they have the right to
puniſh, as well as to-caſhier their ſervants.” '
Such are the opinions which Althuſius and
Languet, and afterwards Needham and Har-
rington, boldly n ang inveſtigated tho-
roughly.
From deference to the age in which they |
lived, they too often 3 texts, autho-
rities, and examples; and their opinions ap-
pear to have been the reſult of the ſtrength
of their minds, and dignity of their characters,
rather than of an accurate analyſis of the true
principles of ſocial order.
Meanwhile other philoſophers, more timid,
contented themſelves with eſtabliſhing, be-
tween the people and kings, an exact reci-
procity of duties and rights, and a mutual
obligation to preſerve inviolate ſettled conven-
tions. An hereditary magiſtrate might in-
deed be depoſed or puniſhed, but it was
gnly upon his having [infringed this ſacred
contract,
( 202 )
contract, which was not the leſs binding on
his family. This doctrine, which facrificed
natural right, by bringing every thing under
__ Poſitive inſtitution, was ſupported both by
civilians and divines. It was favourable to
powerful men, and to the projects of the am-
bitious, as it ſtruck rather at the individual
who might be inveſted with ſovereignty, than
at ſovereignty itſelf. For this reaſon it was
- almoſt generally embraced by reformiſts, and
adopted as a principle in political diſſentions
and revolutions,
Hliſtory exhibits few ſteps of actual pro-
greſs towards liberty during this epoch ; but
we ſee more order and efficacy in govern-
ments, and in nations a ſtronger and particu-
larly a more juſt ſenſe of their rights. Laws
are better combined; they appear leſs fre-
. quently to be the immature and ſhapeleſs pro-
duction of circumſtances and caprice; they
are the offspring of men of learning, if they
cannot be faid as yet to be the children of
philoſophy.
The popular commotions and revolutions
which agitated England, France, and the re-
. 10 of Italy, attracted the notice of phi.
. 1Ioſophers
( 203 )
loſophers to that branch of politics which con-
ſiſts in obſerving and predicting the effects
that the conſtitution, laws and eſtabliſhments
of a country are likely to produce upon the
liberty of the people, and the proſperity,
ſtrength, independence, and form of govern-
ment of the ſtate. Some, in imitation of
Plato, as More, for inſtance, and Hobbes,
deduced from general poſitions the plan of an
entire ſyſtem of ſocial order, and exhibited
the model towards which it was neceſſary in
practice continually to approach. Others,
like Machiavel, ſought, in a profound inveſti-
_ gation of hiſtorical facts, the rules by which
were to be obtained the future e, of
nations.
The ſcience of political economy did not,
in this epoch, exiſt. Princes eſtimated not the
number of men, but of ſoldiers, in the ſtate ;
finance was the mere art of plundering the
people, without driving them to the deſpera-
tion that ſhould end in revolt; and govern-
ments paid no other attention to commerce
but that of loading it with taxes, of re-
ſtricting it by privileges, or of VENOM for
its 5 |
| The
( 204
The nations of Europe, occupied by the
common intereſts that ſhould unite, or tlie
oppoſite ones that they conceived ought to di-
vide them, felt the neceflity of obſerving cer- |
tain rules of condu& which, independently of
treaties, were to operate in their pacific in-
tercourſe ; while other rules, reſpected even
in the midſt of war, were calculated to ſoften
its ferocity, to - diminiſh its ravages, and to
prevent at leaſt unproductive and unneceſſary
calamities. I refer to the ſcience of the law
of nations: but theſe laws unfortunately were
ſought, not in reaſon. and nature, the only
authorities that independent nations may ac.
knowledge, but in eſtabliſhed uſages and the
opinions of antiquity, The rights of huma-
nity, juſtice towards individuals, were leſs
conſulted, in this buſineſs, than the ambition,
the pride, and the avarice of governments.
In this epoch we do not obſerve moraliſts
interrogating the Heart of man, analyſing his
faculties and his feelings, thereby to diſcover
his nature, and the origin, law and ſanction
of his duties. On the contrary, we ſee them
employing all the ſubtlety of the ſchools to
diſcover, reſpecting actions the lawfulneſs of
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which is uncertain, the . preciſe limit where
innocence ends, and fin is to begin; to aſcers
tain what authority has the proper degree of
weight to juſtify the practice of any of theſe
dubious ſort of actions; to aſſiſt them in
claſſing fins methodically, ſometimes into
genus and ſpecies, and ſometimes according to
the reſpective heinouſneſs of their nature; and
laſtly, to mark thoſe in particular of which
the commiſſion of one only is ſufficient to
merit eternal damnation.
The ſcience of morals, it is ao could'
not at that time have being, fince prieſts alone
enjoyed the privilege of being its interpreters
and judges. Meanwhile, as a ſkilful mecha-
nic, by ſtudying an uncouth machine, fre-
quently derives from it the idea of a new one,
leſs imperfect and truly uſeful; ſo did theſe
very ſubtleties lead to the diſcovery, or aſſiſt
in aſcertaining the degree of moral turpitude
of actions or their motives, the order and
limits of our duties, as well as the principles
that ſhould determine our choice whenever
theſe duties ſhall appear to claſh.
The reformation, by deſtroying, in tha” -
countries in which it was embraced, con-
feſſion,
*
1.
—
6206)
feſſion, indulgences, and monks, refined the
Principles of morality, and rendered even man-
ners leſs corrupt. It freed them from ſacer-
dotal expiations, that dangerous encourage-
ment to vice, and from religious celibacy, the
bane of every virtue, becauſe the enemy of the
domeſtic virtues.
This epoch, more than all the reſt, was dotted
and disfigured with acts of atrocious cruelty.
It was the epoch of religious maſſacres, holy
wars, and the depopulation of the new world.
There we ſee eſtabliſhed the ſlavery of an-
cient periods, but a flavery more barbarous,
more productive of crimes againſt nature; and
that mercantile avidity, trafficking with the
blood of men, ſelling them like other commo-
dities, having firſt purchaſed them by trea-
| fon, robbery, or murder, and dragging them
from one hemiſphere to be devoted in ano-
ther, amidſt humihation and outrages, to the
tedious puniſhment of a lingering, a un but |
infallible deſtruction.
At the fame time hypocriſy covers cats |
with executions at the ftake, and aſſaſſinations.
* monſter, fanaticiſm, maddened by the
e bee wounds
( 207 )
wounds it has received, appears to. redouble
its fury, and haſtens to burn its victims in
heaps, fearful that reaſon might be approach-
ing to deliver them from its hands.
Meanwhile we may obſerve ſome of thoſe
mild but intrepid virtues making their appear-
ance which are the honour and conſolation of
humanity. Hiſtory furniſhes names which
may be pronounced without a bluſh. A few
unſullied and mighty minds, uniting ſuperior
talents to the dignity of their characters, re-
lieve, here and there, theſe ſcenes of perfidy,
of corruption, and of carnage. The picture
of the human race is ſtill too dreary for the
philoſopher to contemplate it without ex-
treme mortification ; but he no longer de-
ſpairs, ſince the dawn of brighter . is ex-
hibited to his view.
The march of the ſciences is rapid and
brilliant. The Algebraic language becomes
generalized, ſimplified and perfected, or rather
it is now only that it was truly formed. The
firſt foundations of the general theory of equa- -
tions are laid, the nature of the ſolutions
which they give is aſcertained, and thoſe of
the third and fourth degree are reſolved.
CF }
The ingenious invention of logatithms, as.
abridging the operations of arithmetic,” faci-
litates the application of calculation to the va-
rious objects of nature and art, and thus ex-
tends the ſphere of all thoſe ſciences in which
a numerical proceſs is one of the means of
comparing the reſults of an hypotheſis or
theory with the actual phenomena, and thus
arriving at a diſtinct knowledge of the laws
of nature. In mathematics, i in particular, the
mere length and complication of the numeri-
cal proceſs practically conſidered, bring us,
upon certain occaſions, to a term beyond
which neither time, opportunity, nor even
the ſtretch of our faculties, can carry us ; this
term, had it not been for the happy interven-
tion of logarithms, would have alſo been the
term beyond which ſcience could never paſs,
or the efforts of the prondeſt genius proceed.
I) he law of the deſcent of bodies was diſco-
vered by Galileo, from which he had the in-
genuity to deduce the theory of motion uni-
formly accelerated, and to calculate the curve
deſcribed by a body impelled into the air
with a given velocity, and animated by a
force conſtantly acting OT it in parallel
directions.
Coper-
_( 209
Copernicus revived the true ſyſtem of the
world, ſo long buried in oblivion, deſtroyedy
by the theory of apparent motions; what the
ſenſes had found ſo much difficulty in recon-
ciling, and oppoſed the extreme ſimplicity of
the real motions reſulting from this ſyſtem; |
to the complication, bordering upon abſur-
dity, of the Ptolemean hypotheſis. - The mo-
tions of the planets were better underſtood z
and by the genius of Kepler were diſcovered
the forms of their orbits, and the eternal laws
by which thoſe n en their evolu-
tion. )
Galileo, abt to ae the reeht
diſcovery of teleſcopes, which he carried to
greater perfection, opened to the view of man-
kind a new firmament. The ſpots which he
obſerved on the diſk of the ſun led him to
the knowledge of its rotation, of which he
aſcertained the preciſe period, and the laws by
which it was performed. He demonſtrated
the phaſes of Venus, and diſcovered the four
ſatellites that ſurround and accompany J ys
in his immenſe orbit.
He alſo furniſhed an accurate moth of meas
ſuring time, 3 the vibrations 4 a pendu-
lum. |
Pp =
( 210 )
Thus man owes to Galileo the firſt mathe-
matical theory of a motion that 1s not at once
uniform and rectilinear, as well as one of the
mechanical laws of nature; while to Kepler
he is indebted for the acquiſition of one of
thoſe empirical laws, the diſcovery of which
has the double advantage of leading to the
knowledge of the mechanical law of which
they expreſs the reſult, and of ſupplying ſuch
degrees of this knowledge as man finds him-
ſelf yet incapable of attaining. <7
The diſcovery of the weight of the air, and
of the circulation of the blood, diſtinguiſh the
progreſs of experimental philoſophy, born in
the ſchool of Galileo, and of anatomy, already
too far advanced not to form a ſcience diſtin&
from that of medicine.
Natural hiſtory, and chymiliry; i in a ſpite of
its chimerical hopes and its enigmatical lan-
guage, as well as medicine and ſurgery, aſto-
niſh us by the rapidity of their progreſs,
though we are frequently mortified at the ſight
of the monſtrous prejudices which theſe
ſciences ſtill retain. | oy
Without mentioning the a of Geſner
and Agricola, containing ſuch a fund of real :
information, with ſo flight a mixture of
; ſcientific
66
fcientific or popular errors, we obſerve Ber-
nard de Paliſſi ſometimes diſplaying to us the
quarries from which we derive the materials
of our edifices ; ſometimes maſſes of ſtone
that compoſe our mountains, formed from the
ſkeletons of ſea animals, and authentic monu-
ments of the ancient revolutions. of the globe;
and ſometimes explaining how. the waters,
raiſed from the ſea by evaporation, reſtored
to the earth by rain, ſtopped by beds of clay,
aſſembled in ſnow upon the hills, ſupply
the eternal ſtreams of rivers, brooks, and
fountains : while John Rei diſcovered thoſe
combinations of air with metallic ſubſtances,
which gave birth to the brilliant theories by
which, within a few years, the bounds of chy-
miſtry have been ſo much extended.
In Italy the arts of epic poetry, painting
and ſculpture, arrived at a perfection unknown
to the ancients. In France, Corneille evinced
that the dramatic art was about to acquire a
ſtill nobler elevation; for whatever ſuperiority
the enthuſiaſtical admirers of antiquity may
ſuppoſe, perhaps with juſtice, the chefs-
d'ceuvres of its firſt geniuſes to poſſeſs, it is by
. P 2 | _—
(- an }-
no means difficult, by comparing their works
with the productions of France and of Italy,
for a rational enquirer to perceive the real
progreſs which the art - itſelf has attained in
the hands of the moderns. | |
The Italian language was completely formed,
and in thoſe of other nations we ſee the marks
of their ancient barbariſm continually diſap-
—_—_— 517 7; Mr
Men began to feel the utility of metaphy-
ſics and grammar, and of acquiring the art
of analyſing and explaining philoſophically
both the rules and the proceſſes eſtabliſhed
by cuſtom in the compoſition of words and
phraſes. / + v7.1 Fitts,
We every where perceive, during this
| epoch, reaſon and authority ſtriving for the
maſtery, a conteſt that prepared and gave
promiſe of the triumph of the former. |
This alſo was the period auſpicious to the
birth of that ſpirit of criticiſm which alone
can render erudition truly productive. It
was {till neceſſary to examine what had been
done by the ancients ; but men were aware
that, however they might admire, they were
entitled to judge them. Reaſon, which ſome-
— | | times
16
times ſupported itſelf upon authority, and
againſt which authority had been ſo frequently
employed, was deſirous of appreciating the va-
lue of the affiftance ſhe might derive therefrom,
as well as the motive of the ſacrifice that
was demanded of her. Thoſe who aſſumed
authority for the baſis of their opinions, and
the guide of their conduct, felt how important
it was that they ſhould be ſure of the ſtrength
of their arms, and not expoſe themſelves to
the danger of having them broken to pieces
upon the firſt attack of reaſon.
The habit of writing only in Latin upon
the ſciences, philoſophy, juriſprudence, and
even hiſtory, with a few exceptions, gra-
dually yielded to the pracłice of employing
the common language of the reſpective coun-
try. And here we may examine what influ-
ence upon the progreſs of the human mind
was produced by this - change, which ren-
dered the ſciences more popular, but dimi-
niſhed the facility with which the learned
were able to follow them in their route;
which cauſed a book to be read by more in-
dividuals of inferior information in a particular
country, but by fewer enlightened minds
P 3 ___ © through
( 214 )
through Europe in general; which ſuper-
ſeded the neceſſity of learning Latin in a great
number of men deſirous of inſtruction, without
having the leiſure or the means of ſounding
the depths of erudition, but at the ſame time
obliged the philoſopher to conſume more time
in acquiring a knowledge of different. lan-
guages.
We may ſhow that, as it was impoſſible to
make the Latin a vulgar tongue common to
all Europe, the continuance of the cuſtom of
writing in it upon the ſciences would have
been attended with a tranſient advantage only
to thoſe who ſtudied them; that the exiſtence
of a ſort of ſcientific language among the
learned of all nations, while the people of
each individual nation ſpoke a different one,
would have divided men into two claſſes,
would have perpetuated in the people preju-
dices and errors, would have placed an inſur-
mountable impediment to true equality, to
an equal uſe of the ſame reaſon, to an equal
knowledge of neceſſary truths; and thus by
ſtopping the progreſs of the maſs of man-
kind, would have ended at laſt, as in the Eaſt,
by putting a period to the advancement of the
ſciences themſclves, |
'7 | For.
( 215 )
For a long time there had been no inſtruc-
tion but in churches and cloiſters.
The univerſities were {till under the domi-
nation of the prieſts, Compelled to reſign to
the civil authority a part of their influence,
they retained it without the ſmalleſt defalca-
tion, ſo far as related to the early inſtruction
of youth, that inſtruction which is equally
ſought in all profeſſions, and among all claſſes
of mankind. Thus they poſſeſſed themſelves
of the ſoft and flexible mind of the child, of
the boy, and directed at their pleaſure the firſt
unfiniſhed thoughts of man. To the ſecular
power they left the ſuperintendence of thoſe
ſtudies which had for their object juriſpru-
dence, medicine, ſcientifical analyſis, litera-
ture and the humanities, the ſchools of which
were leſs numerous, and received no pupils
who were not already broken to the ſacerdo-
tal yoke.
In reformed countries the dere loſt this
influence. The common inſtrugion, however,
though dependent on the government, did not
ceaſe to be directed by a theological ſpirit;
but it was no longer confined to members of
the prieſthood, It ſtill corrupted the minds
P 4 | of
( ns }
of men by religious prejudices, but it did not.
bend them to the yoke of ſacerdotal authority;
it ſtill made fanatics, viſionaries, ſophiſts, but
it no longer formed ſlaves for ſuperſtition,
Meanwhile education, being every where
ſubjugated, had corrupted every where the
general underſtanding, by clogging the reaſon
of children with the weight of the religious
prejudices of their country, and by ſtifling in
youth, deſtined to a ſuperior courfe of inſtruc-
tion, the ſpirit of ener by means of poli-
tical prejudices.
Left to himſelf, every man not e found
between him and truth a cloſe and terrible
phalanx of the errors of his country and age,
but the moſt dangerous of thoſe errors were
in a manner already rendered perſonal to him.
Before he could diſſipate the errors of another,
it was neceſſary he ſhould begin with aſcer-
taining his own; before he combated the
difficulties oppoſed by nature to the diſcovery
of truth, his underſtanding, ſo to ſpeak, was
obliged to undergo a thorough repair, In-
ſtruction at this period conveyed ſome know-
ledge ; but to render it uſeful, the operation
| of refining muſt take Place, to ſeparate it from |
e
the droſs in which firgerRtition and thraniny,
together had contrived to bury it?:
We may ſhow what obftacles, more or lefs
powerful, theſe vices of education, thoſe re-
ligious and contradictory creeds, that influ-
ence of the different forms of government,
oppoſed to the progreſs of the human mind.
It will be feen that this progreſs was by ſo
much the flower and unequal, in proportion
as the objects of ſpeculative enquiry inti-
mately affected the ſtate of politics and reli-
gion; that philoſophy, in its moft general
ſenſe, as well as metaphyſics, the truths of
which were in direct hoftility to every kind
of ſuperſtition, were more obſtinately retarded
than political enquiry itſelf, the improvement
of which was only dangerous to the authority
of kings and ariftocratic aſſemblies; and that
the ſame obſervation will hes. apply to the
ſcience of material nature. |
We may farther develope the other Hin |
of this inequality, as they may be traced in
the objects of which each ſcience en and
the methods to which it has recourſe.
In the ſame manner the ſources of i inequa-
lity and counteraction, which operate reſpect-
ing
( a )
ing the very ſame ſcience in different eoun-
tries, are alſo the joint effect of political and
natural cauſes. We may enquire, in this
inequality, what it is that is to be aſcribed to
the different modes of religion, to the form of
government, ta the wealth of any nation, to
its political importance, to its perſonal cha-
racter, to its geographical ſituation, to the
events and viciſſitudes it has experienced, in
fine, to the accident which has produced in
the midſt of it any of thaſe extraordinary men,
whoſe influence, while it extends over the
whole human race, exerciſes itſelf with a dou-
ble energy in a more reſtrained ſphere.
We may diſtinguiſh the progreſs of each
ſcience as it is in itſelf, which has no other
Emit than the number of truths it includes
within its ſphere, and the progreſs of a na-
tion in each ſcience, a progreſs which is re-
gulated firſt by the number of men who are
acquainted with its leading and moſt import-
ant truths, and next by the number and na-
ture of the truths ſo known.
In fine, we are now come to that point of
civilization, at which the people derive a profit
from intellectual knowledge, not only by the
ſervices
2
£3
'( 219 )
ſervices it reaps from men uncommonly in-
ſtructed, but by means of having made of intel-
lectual knowledge a ſort of patrimony, and
employing it directly and in its proper
form to reſiſt error, to anticipate or ſupply
their wants, to relieve themſelves from the
ills of life, or to take off the poignancy of theſe
Ils by the intervention of additional pleaſure.
The hiſtory of the perſecutions to which 5
the champions of liberty were expoſed, during
this epoch, aught not to be forgotten. Theſe
perſecutions will be found to extend from the
truths of philoſophy and politics to thoſe of
medicine, natural hiſtory and aſtronomy. In
the eighth century an ignorant pope had per-
ſecuted a deacon for contending that the earth
was round, in oppoſition to the opinion of the
rhetorical Saint Auſtin. In the ſeventeenth,
the ignorance of another pope, much more
inexcuſeable, delivered Galileo into the hands
of the inquiſition, accuſed of having proved
the diurnal and annual motion of the earth.
The greateſt genius that modern Italy has
given to the ſciences, overwhelmed with age
and infirmities, was obliged to purchaſe his
releaſe from puniſhment and from priſon, by
aſking
aſking pardon of God for having taught men
better to underſtand his works, and to ad-
mire him in the fimplicity of the eternal laws
11 which he governs the univerſe.
Meanwhile, fo great was the abſurdity of
the theologians, that, in condefcenfion to hu-
man underftanding, they granted a permiffion
to maintain the motion of the earth, at the
ſame time that they infiſted that it ſhould be
only in the way of an hypotheſis, and that
the faith ſhould receive no injury. The
aſtronomers, on the other hand, did the
exact oppoſite of this; they treated the mo-
tion of the earth as a reality, and ſpoke of its
immoveableneſs with a deferance 2 —_
thetical.
The rarifition from the * we ve
been confidering to that which follows, has
been diſtinguiſhed by three extraordinary per-
ſonages, Bacon, Galileo, and Deſcartes. Ba-
con has revealed the true method of ſtudying
nature, by employing the three inſtruments
with which the has furniſhed us for the dif-
covery of her ſecrets, obſervation, experi-
ment and calculation. He was deſirous that
the 9 — in the midſt of the uni.
verte,
1 221 }
nt ſhould, as a firſt wa neceſſary ſtep in his
career, renounce every creed he had received,
and even every notion he had formed, in or-
der to create, as it were, for himſelf, a new un-
derftanding, in which no idea ſhould be ad-
mitted but what was preciſe, no opinion but
chat was juſt, no truth of which the degree of
_ certainty or probability had not been ſerupu-
louſly weighed. But Bacon, though poſleſs-
ing in a moſt eminent degree the genius of
philoſophy, added not thereto the genius of
the ſciences; and theſe methods for the diſ-
covery of truth, of which he furniſhed no
example, were admired by the learned, but
produced no e in the march 007 the
ſeiences. |
Galileo had enrichbd: them na the moſt
uſeful and brilliant diſcoveries ; he had taught
by his own example the means of. arriving
at the knowledge of the laws of nature in a
way ſure and productive, in which men were
not obliged to ſacrifice the hope of ſuccels to
the fear of being miſled. He founded the
firſt ſchool in which the ſciences have been
taught without a mixture of ſuperſtition, pre-
judice, or authority; in which every other
means
6 222)
means than experiment and calculation have
been rigorouſly proſcribed : but confining him-
ſelf excluſively to the mathematical and phyſi-
cal ſciences, he was unable to communicate to
the general mind that impulſion which it
ſeemed to want.
This honour was reſerved for the daring
and ingenious Deſcartes. Endowed with a
maſter genius for the ſciences, he joined
example to precept, in exhibiting the method
of finding and aſcertaining truth. This me-
thod he applied to the diſcovery of the laws
of dioptrics, of the colliſion of bodies, and
finally of a new branch of mathematical ſci-
ence, calculated to extend and enlarge the
bounds of all the other branches. |
He wiſhed to extend his method to every
object of human intelligence; God, man, the
univerſe, were in turn the ſubject of his me-
ditations. If, in the phyſical ſciences, his
march be leſs ſure than that of Galileo, if his
philoſophy be leſs wary than that of Bacon,
if he may be accuſed of not having ſufficiently
availed himſelf of the leſſons of the one, and
the example of the other, to diſtruſt his ima-
gination, to interrogate nature by expert-
ment
6
ment alone, to have no faith but in calcula-
tion, to obſerve the univerſe, inſtead of con-
ſtructing it, to ſtudy man, inſtead of truſting
to vague conjectures for a knowledge of his
nature; yet the very boldneſs of his errors
was inſtrumental to the progreſs of the hu-
man ſpecies. He gave activity to minds
which the circumſpection of his rivals could
not awake from their lethargy. He called
upon men to throw off the yoke of authority,
to acknowledge no influence, but what reaſon
ſhould avow : and he was obeyed, becauſe
he ſubjected by his daring, and faſcinated by
his enthuſiaſm.
The Human mind was not yet free, but it
knew that it was formed to be free. Thoſe
who perſiſted in the deſire of retaining it in
its fetters, or who attempted to forge new
ones, were under the neceſſity of proving that
they ought to be impoſed or retained, and it
requires little penetration to foreſee that from
that period they would ſoon be broken in
pieces. 6
NINTH
3 een =_ ET — Oney' ma = a . — — — :
rr , be ee 3 Fioovrne oe N —
— EIIEEnY — > — — 1 3 — — CT = . 3 * " *
( 264 }
NINTH EPOCH,
From the Time of Deſcartes, to the F or matic
| A the French Republic. "4
WE. have ſeen human reaſon, forming
itſelf ſlowly by the natural progreſs of civili-
zation ; ſuperſtition uſurping dominion over
it, thereby to corrupt it, and deſpotiſm de-
grading and ſtupifying the mental faculties
by the operation of fear, and actual inflickion
of calamity.
One nation only eſcaped for 4 while this
double influence. In that happy land, where
liberty had kindled the torch of genius, the
human mind, freed from the trammels of in-
fancy, advanced towards truth with a firm
and undaunted ſtep. But conqueſt ſoon in-
troduced tyranny, ſure to be followed by ſu-
perſtition, its inſeparable companion, and the
whole race of man was re-plunged into dark-
neſs, deſtined, from appearance, to be eter-
nal. The dawn, however, at length was ob-
| ſerved
(225 )
ſerved to peep ; the eyes, long condemned to
obſcurity, opened and ſhut their lids, inuring
themſelves gradually till they could gaze at
the light, and genius dared once again to ſhine
forth upon the globe, from which, by fana-
ticiſm and r it ſo long had been ba-
niſhed. |
We have ſeen mull revolting at, and
' ſhaking off part of its chains, and by the con-
tinual acquiſition of new ſtrength preparing
and haſtening the epoch of its liberty.
We have now to run through the period in
which it compleated its emancipation; in
vrhich, ſubjected ſtill to a degree of bondage,
it throws off, one by one, the remainder of its
fetters; in which, free at length to purſue its
courſe, it can no longer be ſtopped but by
_ thoſe obſtacles the occurrence of which is ine-
vitable upon every new progreſs, as being
the reſult of the conformation of the mind
itſelf, or of the connection which nature has
- eſtabliſhed between our means of diſcovering
truth, and the obſtacles the Oy to our -
efforts. |
Religious intolerance bad ben lem
of the Belgie provinces to throw off the yoke
( 8 5
of Spain, and to form themſelves into a fede-
ral republic. The ſame cauſe had revived in
England a ſpirit of liberty, which, tired of long
and fanguinary commotions, ſat down at laſt
contented with a conſtitution, admired for a
while by philoſophers, but having at preſent
no other ſupport than national fuperſtition and
political hypocriſy.
To ſacerdotal perſecution is it likewiſe to
be aſcribed that the Swedes had the fortitude
to regain a portion of their rights. Fo
_ Meanwhile, amidſt the commotions occa-
fioned by theological conteſts, France, Spain,
Hungary and Bohemia faw the feeble remains
of their liberty, or of what, at leaſt, bore the
ſemblance of liberty, totall y yaniſh from their
fight. #--Þ |
- Even in countries ſaid to be free, it is in vain
to look for that freedom which violates none
of the natural rights of man, and which fe-
_ cures their indefeaſible poſſeſſion and uncon-
trouled exerciſe. On the contrary, the liberty
_ exiſting there, founded upon a poſitive right
unequally ſhared, | confers upon an indivi-
dual prerogatives greater or leſs according to
- the town which he inhabits, the claſs in which
he
A
100
he is born, the fortune he poſſeſſes, or the
trade he may exerciſe; and a conciſe picture
of tlieſe fartaſtical Gittinctions in different na-
tions, will furniſh the beſt anſwer td thoſe
men who are ſtill diſpoſed to vindicate the ad-
vantage and neceſſity of them.
In theſe countries, however, civil and per-
ſonal liberty are guarantied by the laws. If
man be not all that he ought to be, ftill«the
dignity of his nature is not totally degraded z
ſome of his rights are at leaſt acknowledged;
it can no longer be ſaid of him that he is a
ſlave, but only that he does not yet Know
how to become truly free. 15 220
In nations among whom, during the ſame
period, liberty may have incurred loſſes more
or leſs real, ſo reſtricted were the political
rights enjoyed by the generality of the peo-
ple, that the annihilation of the ariſtocracy,
almoſt deſpotic, under which they had groaned,
ſeems to have been more than a compenſa-
tion. They have loſt the title of citizen,
which inequality had nearly rendered illuſory;
but the quality of man has been more re-
ſpected, and royal deſpotiſm has ſavell them
from a ſtate of feodal oppꝛeſſion, an oppref»
* ſion
1 4 4 ;
+
. 1
{ 228 }
ſion ſo much the more painful and humi-
ating, as the number and preſence of the ty-
rants are continually OY the ſentiment
of it.
In nations partially free the laws muſt ne-
ceſſarily have improved; becauſe the intereſts
of thoſe who hold therein the reins of power,
are not in all caſes at variance with the gene-
ral intereſts of the people; and they muſt
alſo have improved in deſpotic ſtates, either
becauſe the intereſt of the public proſperity is
ſometimes confounded with that of the deſ-
pot, or becauſe, ſeeking to deſtroy the re-
mains of authority in the nobles or the clergy,
the deſpot himſelf thereby communicates to
the laws a ſpirit of equality, of which the mo-
tive indeed was the eſtabliſhment of an equa-
| lity of ſlavery, but which has often been at ·
_ tended with ſalutary conſequences.
We may here minutely explain the ds
by which have produced in Europe that ſpecies of
deſpotiſm, of which neither the ages that pre-
ceded, nor the other quarters of the world,
have furniſhed an example; a deſpotiſm al-
moſt abſolute, but which, reſtrained by opi-
nion, influenced by the ſtate of knowledge,
1 8 LT, and
6229)
and tempered in a manner by its own intereſt,
has frequently contributed to the progreſs of
wealth, induſtry, inſtruction, and ſometimes
even to that of civil liberty.
The manners of men were meliorated by
the mere decay of thoſe prejudices which had
kept alive their ferocity, by the influence
of commerce and induſtry, the natural ene-
mies of diſorder and violence, from which
wealth takes its flight, by the fear and terror
occaſioned by the recollection, ſtill recent, of
the barbarities of the preceding period, by a
more general diffuſion of the philoſophical
ideas of juſtice and equality, and laſtly, by
the ſlow but ſure effect of the progreſs *
mental illumination.
— Religious intolerance ſtill ſurvived ; but it
was merely in the way of precaution, as a
homage to the prejudices of the people, or as
a ſafeguard againſt their inconftancy. It had
loſt its fierceſt features. Executions at the
ſtake, ſeldom reſorted to, were replaced by
other modes of directing religious opinions,
which, if they frequently proved more arbi-
trary, were however leſs barbarous, till at
length Perſecution appeared only at inter-
2 vals;
D ̃] A per om” = my — 4 —— mn gn, —
( 239 )
vals, and reſulted chiefly from the i inveteracy
of former habit, or from temporary: weakneſs
and complaiſance.
In every nation, and upon every ſubject,
5 the policy of government followed the ſteps
not only of opinion, but even of philoſophy;
it was however ſlowly, and with a ſort of
reluctance : and we ſhall always find that, in
proportion as there exiſts a conſiderable diſ-
tance between the point at which men of
profound meditation arrive in the ſcience of
politics. and morals, and that attained by the
generality of thinking men, whoſe ſentiments, .
when imbibed by the multitude, form what
is called the public opinion, ſo thoſe wha
direct the affairs of a nation, whatever may
be its form of government, are uniformly
ſeen below the level of this opinion; oy
walk in its path, they purſue its courſe ;
it js with ſo ſluggiſh a pace, that, ſo far A
outſtripping, they never come up with it, |
and are always behind by a conſiderable num-
ber of years, and by a pation, 90 leſe conſt. |
derable, of truths,
And now we artive 81 the period <FORM
\phioophy, the moſt * and obvious
0
elles
(62310) 5
effects of which we have before remarked,
obtained an influence on the thinking claſs of
men, and theſe on the people and their go-
vernments, that, ceaſing any longer to be gra-
dual, produced a revolution in the entire maſs.
of certain nations, and gave thereby a ſecure
pledge of the general revolution one day to
follow that ſhall embrace the whole 1
ſpecies.
writers upon politics and the law of nations
at length arrived at the knowledge of the
true rights of man, which they deduced from
this ſimple principle: that h is a being endowed
dwoith ſenſation, capable of reaſoning upon and
underſtanding his intereſts, 4 Li acquiring
moral ideas.
They ſaw that the maintenance of his rights 8
was the only object of political union, and
that the perfection of the ſocial art conſiſted |
in preſerving them with the moſt entire
equality, and in their fulleft extent, They
perceived that the means of ſecuring the
rights of the individual, conſiſting of general
rules to be laid doun in every community, |
Q 4 Dy the F
Alter ages of error, dew wandering in all
the mazes of vague and defective theories,
|
|
|
1
( 232 )
the power of chooſing theſe means, and de-
termining theſe rules, could veſt only in „
majority of the community; and that for this
reaſon, as it is impoſſible for any individual
in this choice to follow the dictates of his
own underſtanding, without ſubjecting that
of others, the will of the majority is the
only principle which can be followed by all, |
without infringing bs the common. equa ·
lity.
Each individual may enter into a previous
engagement to comply with the will of the
majority, which by this engagement becomes
unanimity; he can however bind nobody
but himſelf, nor can he bind himſelf except
ſo far as the majority ſhall not violate his in-
dividual rights, after having recogniſed them.
| Such are at once the rights of the majority
over individuals, and the limits of theſe rights ;
ſuch is the origin of that unanimity, which
renders the engagement of the majority bind-
ing upon all; a bond that ceaſes to operate
when, by the change of individuals, this ſpe-
cies of unanimity ceaſes to exiſt, There are
objects, no doubt, upon which the majority
would pronounce perhaps oftener in favour.
of
( 233 )
ol error and miſchief, than in favour of trug
and. happineſs ; ſtill the majority, and the .
majority only, can decide what are the ob-
jects which cannot properly be referred to its
own deciſion; it can alone determine as to
the individuals whoſe judgement it reſolves
to prefer to its own, and the method which
theſe individuals are to purſue in the exerciſe
of their judgement ; in fine, it has alſo an in-
diſpenſible authority of pronouncing whether
the deciſions of its officers have or Hayes not
wounded the rights of all. 855
From theſe ſimple principles men diſco-
vered the folly of former notions reſpecting
the validity of contracts between a people and
its magiſtrates, which it was ſuppoſed could
only be annulled by mutual conſent, or by a
violation of the conditions by one of the par-
ties; as well as of another opinion, leſs ſer-
vile, but equally abſurd, that would chain
a people for ever to the proviſions of a con-
ſtitution when once eſtabliſhed, as if the right
of changing it were not the ſecurity of every
other right, as if human inſtitutions, nece -
ſarily defective, and capable of een .
as we nn. enlightened, were to be con-
demmed
HILL > — — vs . ͤ 0 DÄ OS 36 ED EDI rms In ——
(024
demned to an eternal monotony. Accordingly
ke governors of nations ſawthemſelves obliged
to renounce that falfe and ſubtle policy, which,
ſorgetting that all men derive from nature an
equality of rights, would ſometimes meaſure
the extent of thoſe which it might think pro-
per to grant by the fize of territory, the
temperature of the climate, the national cha-
racer, the wealth of the people, the ſtate of
commerce and induſtry ; and ſometimes cede
them in unequal portions among the different
claſſes of foctety, according to their birth, their
fortune, or their profeſſion, thereby creating
_ contrary intereſts and jarring powers, in or-
der afterwards to apply correftives, which,
but for thefe inſtitutions, would not be wanted,
5 and which, after all, are inadequate to the
end.
It was now no ln practicable to divide |
mankind into two ſpecies, one deſtined to go-
vera, the other to obey, one to deceive, the
other to be dupes : the doctrine was. obliged
univerſally to be acknowledged, that all have
an equal right ta be enlightened reſpecting
their intereſts, to ſhare in the acquiſition of
1 * chat no political authorities ap-
N pointed
12356
pointed by the people for the benefit of the
people, can be entitled to retain them in ig-
norance and darkneſs, |
Theſe principles, which were vindicated
by the generous Sydney, at the expence of
his blood, and to which Locke gave the au-
thority of his name, were afterwards deve-
loped with greater force, . preciſion, and ex-
tent by Rouſſeau, whoſe glory it is to have
placed them among thoſe truths henceforth
impoſſible to be forgotten or diſputed.
Man is ſubje& to wants, and he has facul-
ties to provide for them; and from the ap-
plication of theſe faculties, differently modi- WO
fied and diſtributed, a maſs of wealth is de-.
rived, deſtined to ſupply the wants of the |
community. But what are the principles by
which the formation or allotment, the pre- . 1
ſervation or conſumption, the increaſe -or di- 7
minution of this wealth is governed? What b
are the laws of that equilibrium between the | |
wants and reſources of men which is conti- |
' nvally tending to eſtabliſh itſelf ; and from 9
which reſults, on the one hand, a greater faci-
lity of providing for thoſe wants, and of cons
0h an adequate portion of general feli.
| city, 4
| fare requiring that each ſhould underſtand.
| his own intereft, and be able to purſue re
13 ahead uncontrouled? ?
Hence it W to be one of the rights of
man,
( 236 )
city, when wealth increafes, till it has reached
its higheſt degree of advancement ; and on the
other, as wealth diminiſhes, greater difficul-
ties, and of conſequence proportionate mi-
fery and wretchednefs, till abſtinence or de-
population ſhall have again reſtored the ba-
lance ? How, in this aſtoniſhing multiplicity
of labours and their produce, of wants and
- Tefources ; in this alarming, this terrible com-
plication of intereſts, which connects the ſub-
fiſtence and well-being of an obſcure indivi-
dual with the general fyſtem of focial exiſt-
ence, which renders him dependent on all
_ the accidents of nature and every political
event, and extends in a manner to the whole
globe his faculty of experiencing privations®
or enjoyments ; how is it that, in this feem-
ing chaos, we ſtill perceive, by a general law
of the moral world, the efforts of each indi-
vidual for himſelf conducing to the good of
the whole, - and, notwithftanding the open
conflict of inimical intereſts, the public wel-
(237)
man that he ſhould employ his faculties, dif-
poſe of his wealth, and provide for his wants
m whatever manner he ſhall think beſt. 'The
general intereſt of the ſociety, ſo far from
reſtraining him in this reſpect, forbids, on the
contrary, every ſuch attempt; and in this de-
partment of public . adminiſtration, the care
of ſecuring to every man the rights which he
_ derives from nature, is the only ſound po-
licy, the only controul which the general
will can exerciſe over the individuals of the
community.
But this W S nd are
ſtill duties incumbent upon the adminiſtra-
tors of the general will, the ſovereign autko—-
rity. It is for this authority to eſtabliſh |
"the regulations which are deſtined to aſcer-
tain, in exchanges of every kind, the weight,
the bulk, the length, and e of Ty
to be exchanged. |
It is for this nas to W a common
ſtandard of valuation, that may apply to all
commodities and facilitate the calculation of
their valuations and compariſon, and which,
bearing itſelf an intrinſic value, may be em-
ployed? in all caſes as . medium of Wen » *
— — — üä—ñ ͤ ë—¾4———ͤů— ͤ—ũä—ä—1.x —Iä — — . —— —— — ?Lᷣ̃ Þ__—t—_—
*
.
„„
Aa a regulation without which commerce, fe
ſtrained to the mere operations of barter, can-
not acquire the neceſſary activity.
The growth of every year preſents us with
a ſupererogatory value, which is deſtined nei-
ther to remunerate the labour of which this
growth is the fruit, nor to ſupply the ſtock
which is to ſecure an equal and more abund-
ant growth in time to come. The poſſeſſor
of this ſupererogatory value does not owe it
immediately to his labour, and poſſeſſes it in-
dependently of the daily and indiſpenſible uſe
of his faculties for the ſupply of his wants.
This ſupererogatory growth is therefore the
ſtock to which the ſovereign authority may
have recourſe, without injuring the rights of.
any, to ſupply the expences which are requi-
ſite for the ſecurity of the ſtate, its intrinſic
_ tranquillity, the preſervation of the rights of
all, the exerciſe of the authorities inſtituted
for the eſtabliſhment or adminiſtration of law,
in fine, of the maintenance through all its
branches of the public proſperity.
There are certain operations, e
ments, and inftitutipns, beneficial to the com-
- _— * which it is the office of. the
commu»
„
community to introduce, direct, and fi per-
intend, and which are calculated to ſupply
che defects of perſonal inclination, and to
parry the ſtruggle of oppoſite intereſts, whether
for the improvement of agriculture, induſtry,
and commerce, or to prevent or diminith the
evils entailed on our nature, or thoſe which
accident is continually accumulating upon us.
Till the comm encement of the epoch we
are now conſidering, and even for ſome time
after, theſe objects had been abandoned to
chance, to the rapacity of governments, to
the artifices of pretenders, or to the Ppreſu-
dices and partial intereſts of the powerful
claſſes of ſociety ; but a diſciple'of Deſcartes,
the illuſtrious and unfortunate John de Witt,
perceived how neceſſary it was that political
economy, like every other ſcience, ' ſhould be
: governed by the principles of philoſophy,
and ſubjected to the rules of a rigid calculation.
It made however little progreſs, till the peace
of Utrecht promiſed to Europe à durable
trariquillity. From this period, neglected 28
it had hitherto been, it became a ſuhject of
almoſt general attention; and by Stuart, Smith,
and particularly by the French economiſts,
It
8 *
—— — —
r — —[ 5
* 1
( 240 )
it was fuddenty elevated, at leaſt as to preciſion
and purity of principles, to a degree of per-
fection, not to have been expected after the
long and total indifference which had prevailed
upon the ſubject. |
The cauſe however of ſo pe wee TY a
progreſs is chiefly to be found in the ad-
vancement of that .branch of philoſophy com-
prehended i in the term metaphyſics, taking the
word in its moſt extenſive ſignification.
Deſcartes had reſtored this branch of phy-
Joſophy to the dominion of reaſon. He per-
ceived the propriety of deducing i it from thoſe
ſimple and evident truths which are revealed
to us by an inveſtigation of the operations of
the mind. But ſcarcely had he diſcovered
_ this iple than his eager imagination led
8 from it, and philoſophy ap-
peared for a time to have reſumed its in-
dependence only to become the prey of new
errors.
At leverh Locke mas, himſelf ks of
the proper clew. . He ſhewed that a preciſe
and accurate analyſis of ideas, reducing them
t to ideas earlier in their origin or more ſimple _
in their ſtructure, was the only means to avoid
the
(24)
the being loſt in a chaos of notions incom-
plete, incoherent, and undetermined, diſor-
derly becauſe ſuggeſted by accident, and after-
wards entertained. veithaus: reflecting on their
nature. |
He proved by this analyſis, that the holy
= of our ideas reſults merely from the
operations of our intellect upon the ſenſations
we have received, or more accurately ſpeak-
ing, are compounded of ſenſations offering
themſelves ſimultaneouſly to the memory, and
after ſuch a manner, that the attention 1s
fixed. and the perception bounded to a par-
ticular branch or view of the ſenſations wann
ſelves. |
He fhewed that by taking o one fngle *
to repreſent one ſingle idea, properly analiſed
and defined, we are enabled to recal conſtantly |
the ſame idea, that is, the ſame ſimultaneous:
reſult of certain ſimple ideas, and of conſe-
quence can introduce this idea into a train of
reaſoning without riſk of miſleading ourſelves.
On the' contrary, if our words do not re-
preſent fixed and definite ideas, they will at
|
—
—
different times ſuggeſt different ideas to the
mind and become the * ne e of
error.
3 V
1 4 * iS - * Re
- 75 - * > y
= -
A
"1
p *
* v
:
”
*
"3 | ( 242)
In fine, Locke was the firſt who ventured:
to preſcribe the limits of the human under-
ſtanding, or rather to determine the nature of
the truths it can aſcertain and the objects it
can embrace. Ed
It was not long babes this nth: was
adopted by philoſophers in general, in treating
of morals and politics, by which 'a degree of
_ certainty was given to'thoſe ſciences little in-
ferior to that which obtained in the natural
ſciences,” admitting only of ſuch concluſions
as could 'be proved, ſeparating theſe from
doubtful notions, and content to remain igno-
rant of whatever is out of the reach of human
| comprehenſion. .
In the ſame. manner, by andlifing./ he
faculty of experiencing pain and pleaſure,
1 men arrived at the origin of their notions of
maoorality, and the foundation of thoſe gene-
al principles which form the neceſſary and
Immutable laws of juſtice ; and conſequently
diſcovered the proper motives of: conferming
their conduct to thoſe laws, which, being de-
duced from the nature of our feeling, may not
improperly be called our moral conſtitution.
The ſame ſyſtem became, in a manner, 2
general inſtrument of acquiring knowledge.
: ? . x , 3 Y ; F : - It
6260
It was employed to aſcertain the truths of na-
tural philoſophy, to try the facts of hiſtory,
and to give laws to taſte. In a word, the
proceſs of the human mind in every ſpecies of
enquiry was regulated by this principle; and
it is this lateſt effort of ſcience which has
placed an everlaſting barrier between the hu-
man race and the old miſtakes of its infancy,
that will for ever preſerve us from a relapſe
into former ignorance, ſince it has prepared
the means of undermining not only our pre-
ſent errors, but all thoſe by which they may
be replaced, and which will ſucceed each other
only te to poſſeſs a a and n Ae
ence.
In nn n a man inf a wal an :
profound genius laid the foundations of a new
theory. His bold and ardent mind diſdained
to reſt ou the ſuppoſitions of a modeſt phiſo=
phy, which left in doubt thoſe great queſ-
tions of ſpiritual exiſtence, the immortality of
the ſoul, the free will of man and of God,
and the exiſtence of vice and miſery in a
world framed by a being whoſe infinite wiſ-
dom and goodneſs might be ſuppoſed to ba-
nifh them from his creation. Leibnitz cut
R 2 | the
( 244 )
the knot which a timid ſyſtem had in vain
attempted to unlooſe. He ſuppoſed the uni-
verſe to be compoſed of atoms, which were
ſimple, eternal, and equal in their nature.
He contended that the relative ſituation of
each of theſe atoms, with reſpe& to every
other, occaſioned the qualities diſtinguiſhing
it from all others; the human ſoul, and the
minuteſt particle of a maſs of ſtone, being
each of them equally one of theſe atoms,
differing only in conſequence of the reſpective
places my any in the order of the uni-
verſe.
He eee that, of all the polible ec com-
binations which could be formed of theſe
atoms, an infinitely wiſe being had preferred,
and could not but prefer, the moſt perfect;
and that if, in that which exiſts, we are af-
flicted with the preſence of vice and miſery,
ſtill there is no other poſſible combination that
would not be productive of greater evils.
Such was the nature of this theory, which,
ſupported by the countrymen of Leibnitz, re-
tarded in that part of the world the progreſs
of-philoſophy. Meanwhile there ſtarted up
in England an entire ſect, who embraced with
311 | | zeal,
( 245 )
zeal, and defended with eloquence, the ſuhodia
of optimiſm : but, leſs acute and profound
than Leibnitz, who founded his ſyſtem upon
the ſuppoſition of its being impoſſible, from
his very nature, that an all-wiſe being ſhould
plan any other univerſe than that which was
beſt, they endeavoured to diſcover in the
terraqueous part of the world the proofs of
this perfection, and loſing thereby the advan-
tages which attach to this ſyſtem, conſidered
generally and in the abſtract, they frequently
fell into abſurd and ridiculous reaſonings.
Meanwhile, in Scotland, other philoſo-
phers, not perceiving that the analyſis of the
developement of our actual faculties led to a
principle which gave to the morality of our
actions a baſis ſufficiently ſolid and pure, at-
tributed to the humaù ſoul a new faculty,
diſtinct from thoſe of ſenſation and reaſon, :
though at the ſame time combining itſelf
with them; of the exiſtence of which they
could advance no other proof, than that it
was impoſſible to form a conſiſtent theory
without it. In the hiſtory of theſe. opiniens
it will be ſeen, that, while they have proved
u, to the progreſs of philoſophy itſelf,
2 3 W
( 246 )
they have tended to give a more rapid and
extenſive ſpread to ideas truly S con-
ned with philoſophy.
Hitherto we have exhibited the hide of
has in a manner been ſtudied, inveſtigated,
and perfected. It remains to mark its influ-
ence on the general opinion, and to ſhow,
that, while it arrived at the certain and infal-
truth, reaſon at the fame time detected the
gination, and undermined thoſe prejudices in
l the maſs of individuals which had fo long
HP been the ſcourge, at once corrupting and in-
: Viting calamity upon the human ſpecies. |
. The period at length arrived when men
| 5 no longer feared openly to avow the right, ſo
* long withheld, and even unknown, of ſub-
jecting every opinion to the teſt of reaſon,
= W or, in other words, of employing, in their
| ſearch after truth, the only means they poſ-
| ſeſs for its diſcovery, Every man learned,
nature had not condemned him to fee with
| - ; deluſions into which it had ſo often been led
| by a reſpect for authority or a miſguided ima-
the
philoſophy only among men by whom it
ſible means of diſcovering and recogniſing .
with a degree of pride and exultation, that
( 247 )
the eyes and to conform his judgement to
the caprice of another. The ſuperſtitions of
antiquity accordingly diſappeared ; and the-
debaſement of reaſon to the ſhrine of ſuper-
natural faith, was as rarely to be found in
ſociety as in the circles of metaphyſics and
e
A claſs of men ae * their appear-
ance in Europe, whoſe object was leſs to diſ-
cover and inveſtigate truth, than to defſemi-
nate it; who, purſuing prejudice through all
the haunts and aſylums in which the clergy,
the ſchools, governments, and privileged or-
porations had placed and protected it, made
it their glory rather to eradicate popular-er-
rors, than add to the ſtores of human know»
ledge; thus aiding indirectly the Progreſs of
mankind, but in a way neither leſs arduous,
nor leſs beneficial.
In England, Collins and Weesen aid
in France, Bayle, Fontenelle, Monteſquieu,
and the reſpective diſciples of theſe celebrated
men, combated on the ſide of truth with all
the weapons that learning, wit and genius
were able to furniſh ; aſſuming every ſhape,
een every tone, from the ſublime and
R 4 = pathetic
+
( 248 )
| Pathetic to pleaſantry and ſatire, from the moſt -
laboured inveſtigation to an intereſting ro-
mance or a fugitive eſſay: accommodating
truth to thoſe eyes that were too weak to bear
its effulgence; artfully careſſing prejudice, the
more eaſily to ſtrangle it; never aiming a
direct blow at errors, never attacking more
than one at a time, nor even that one in all
its fortreſſes; ſometimes ſoothing the enemies
of reaſon, by pretending to require in religion
but a partial toleration, in politics but a li-
mited freedom; ſiding with deſpotiſm, when
their hoſtilities were directed againſt the
prieſthood, and with prieſts, when their ob-
ject was to unmaſk the deſpot ; ſapping the
principle of both theſe peſts of human hap-
pineſs, ſtriking at the root of both theſe bane-
ful trees, while apparently wiſhing for the
reform only of glaring abuſes and ſeemingly _
_ confining themſelves to lopping off the exu-
berant branches; ſometimes' repreſenting to
the partiſans of liberty, that ſuperſtition, which
covers deſpotiſm as with a coat of mail, is the
firſt victim which ought to be ſacrificed, the
firſt chain that ought to be broken ; and: ſome-
times eee it to tyrants as the true
as ant £
(ras)
enemy of their power, and alarming them with
recitals of its hypocritical conſpiracies and its
ſanguinary vengeance. Theſe writers, mean-
while, were uniform in their vindication of free-
dom of thinking and freedom of writing, as pri-
vileges upon which depended the ſalvation of
mankind. They declaimed, without ceſſa-
tion or wearineſs, againſt the crimes both of
fanatics and tyrants, expoling every feature of
_ ſeverity, ot cruelty, of oppreſſion, whether in
religion, in adminiſtration, in manners, or in
laws; commanding kings, ſoldiers, magiſ-
trates and prieſts, in the name of truth and of
nature, to reſpect the blood of mankind ;:call-
ing upon them, with energy, to anſwer for the
lives {ill profuſely ſacrificed in the field of bat»
tle or by the infliction of puniſhments, or elſe
to correct this inhuman policy, this murderous
ünſenſibility; and - laſtly, in every place, and
upon every occaſion, rallying the, friends of
mankind with the- cry l n n
and humanity / f [1 }
Such was this new _hiloſophy. Accordingly
to thoſe numerous claſſes that exiſt by preju-
dice, that live upon error, and that, but for
the * of the people, would be power-
. leſs
( 250 )
leſs and extin&, it became a common object
of deteſtation, It was every where received,
and every where perſecuted, having kings,
prieſts, nobles and' magiſtrates among the
number of its friends as well as of its ene-
mies, Its leaders, however, had almoſt al-
ways the art to elude the purſuits of ven-
geance, while they expoſed themſelves to
_ Hatred ; and to ſcreen themſelves from perſe-
cution, while at the ſame time they ſufficiently
diſcovered themſelves not to loſe the _—
of their glory. :
It frequently happened that a government
rewarded them with one hand, and with the
other paid their enemies for calumniating
them; proſcribed them, yet was proud that
ne had honoured its dominions with
their birth; puniſhed their opinions, and at
the ſame time would have been aſhamed "
to be ſuppoſed a convert thereto.
Theſe opinions were ſhortly embraced bs
every enlightened mind, By ſome they were
openly avowed, by others concealed under
an hypocriſy more or leſs apparent, according
to the timidity or firmneſs of their charac-
ters, and accordingly as they were influenced
51 : 9 by
(6-1
by the contending intereſts of their profeſſion |.
or their vanity, At length the pride of
ranging on the fide of erudition became pre-
dominant, and ſentiments were profeſſed
with the {lighteſt caution, which, in the ages
that preceded, had been concealed by the
moſt profound diſſimulation. |
Look to the different countries of Europe
into which, from the prevalence of the French
language, become almoſt univerſal, it was im-
poſſible for the inquiſitoriat ſpirit of govern-
ments and prieſts to prevent this philoſophy
from penetrating, and we ſhall ſee how rapid
was its progreſs. Meanwhile we cannot over-
look how artfully tyranny and” ſuperſtition '
employed againſt it all the arguments in-
vented to prove the weakneſs and fallibility
of human judgement, all the motives which
the knowledge of man had been able to ſug-
geſt for miſtruſting his ſenſes, for doubting
and ſcrutinizing his reaſon; thus converting
ſcepticiſm itſelf into an inſtrument by which:
to aid the cauſe of eredulity. 135
This admirable ſyſtem, ſo pls in its ;
principles, which conſiders an unreſtricted
freedom as the ſureſt encouragement” to com-
| Merce .
7
= PE GA —— — ⏑ ä f6ñ— 3 —Uͤ—. 2 GE <7 — — —— IE
7
% mn
|
Ee
merce and induſtry, which would free the
people from the deſtructive peſtilence, the
humiliating yoke of thoſe taxes apportioned
with fo great inequality, levied with ſo im-
provident an expence, and often attended with
circumſtances of ſuch atrocious barbarity, by
ſubſtituting in their room a mode of contri-
bution at once equal and juſt, and of which
the burthen would ſcarcely be felt; this
theory, which connects the power and wealth
of a ſtate with the happineſs of individuals,
and a reſpect for their rights, which unites by
the bond of a} common felicity the different
claſſes into which ſocieties naturally divide
| themſelves - this benevolent idea of a frater-
nity of the whole human race, of which no
national intereſt ſhall ever more intervene to
diſturb the harmony; theſe principles, ſo at-
ractive from the generous ſpirit that pervades
them, as well as from their ſimplicity and
comprehenſion, were propagated with enthu-
ſiaſm by the French economiſts.
The ſucceſs of theſe writers was leſs rapid
and leſs general than that of the philoſo-
Phers; they had to combat prejudices more
refined, errors more ſubtle, Frequently they
1217 Were
( 1983 3}
were obliged. to enlighten before they could
undeceive, and to inftru& good ſenſe before
they could venture to appeal to it as their
judge. | | 51
If, however, to the whole of their doctrine
they gained but a ſmall number of converts;
if the general nature and inflexibility of their
principles were diſcouraging to the minds of
many; if they injured their cauſe by affecting
an obſcure and dogmatical ſtyle, by too much
poſtponing the intereſts of political freedom
to the freedom of commerce, and by inſiſting
too magiſterially upon certain branches of their
ſyſtem, which they had not ſufficiently inveſ-
tigated; they nevertheleſs ſucceeded in ren-
dering odious and contemptible that daſtardly,
that baſe and corrupt policy, which places
the proſperity of a nation in the ſubjection
and impoveriſhment of its neighbours, in the
narrow views of a code of prohibitions, and
in the petty calculations of a tyrannical re-
venue. ls meg N + eie
But the new truths with which genius
had enriched philoſophy and the ſcience of
political economy, adopted in a greater or leſs
degree by men of enlightened underſtandings,
extended {till farther their ſalutary influence.
1] | : The
——U— ——— —
| ( 254 )
The art of printing had been applied to ſo
many ſubjects, books had ſo rapidly increaſed,
they were ſo admirably adapted to every taſte,
every degree of information, and every ſitua- 8
tion of life, they afforded ſo eaſy and fre-
quently ſo delightful an inſtruction, they had
opened ſo many doors to truth, which it was
impoſſible ever to cloſe again, that there was
no longer a claſs or profeſſion of mankind
from whom the light of knowledge could ab-
ſolutely be excluded. Accordingly, though
there ſtill remained a multitude of individuals
condemned to a forced or voluntary ignorance,
yet was the barrier between the. enlightened
and unenlightened portion. of mankind nearly
effaced, and an inſenſible gradation occupied
the ſpace which neee the to extremes of
genius and ſtupidity.
Thus there dcn a e OY
"of the natural rights of 'man ; the opinion even.
that theſe rights are inalienable and impre-
ſcriptible ; a decided partiality for freedom of
thinking and writing; for the enfranchiſe-
ment of induſtry and commerce; for the me-
. Horation of the condition of the people; for
the repeal of penal ſtatutes againſt religious
nonconformiſts ; for the abolition of torture
. — 9 II TAY WA IS Rr noe A Wren nee > >
—
1
and barbarous puniſhments; the defire of a
milder ſyſtem of criminal legiſlation ; of a
juriſprudence that ſhould give to innocence a
complete ſecurity ; of a civil code more ſim-
ple, as well as more conformable to reaſon and
juſtice; indifference as to ſyſtems of religion,
conſidered at length as the offspring of fuper-
ſtition, or ranked in the number of political
inventions; hatred of hypocriſy and fanati-
eiſm; contempt for prejudices; and laſtly, a
zeal for the propagation of truth. Theſe
principles, paſſing by degrees from the writings
of philoſophers into every claſs of ſociety whoſe
inſtruction was ndt confined to the catechiſm
and the ſcriptures, became the common creed,
the ſymbol and type of all men who were not
idiots on the one hand, or, on the other, aſ-
ſertors of the policy of Machiaveliſm. In
ſome countries theſe ſentiments formed fo
nearly the general opinion, that the maſs even
of the people ſeemed ready to obey their dic-
tates and act from their impulſe. *
The love of mankind, that is to ſay, that
active compaſſion which intereſts itſelf in all
the afflictions of the human race, and regards
with horror whatever, in nm: inſtitotions,
in
yy
.
7
. 7
Ca
in the acts of government, or, the purſuits of
individuals, adds to the inevitable misfor-
tunes of nature, was the neceſſary reſult of theſe
principles. It breathed in every work, it
prevailed in every converſation, and its be-
nign effects were already viſible even in the
laws and 24 of. countries _— ect
to deſpotiſm. i 117 non
The Pods hem of different nations em-
being. in their meditations, the entire inte-
reſts of man, without diſtinction of country,
of colour, or of ſect, formed, notwithſtand-
ing the difference of their ſpeculative opi-
nions, a firm and united phalanx againſt every
deſcription of error, every ſpecies of tyranny.
Animated by the ſentiment of univerſal phi-
lanthropy, they declaimed equally againſt i in-
juſtice, Whether exiſting in a foreign country,
or exereiſed by their own country againſt a
foreign nation. They impeached in Europe
the avidity which ſtained the ſhores of Ame-
rica, Africa, and Aſia. with cruelty and crimes.
The philoſophers. of France and England glo-
ried in aduming the appellation, and fulfiling
the duties, of friends to thoſe very negroes
whom their iS norant ppreſſors diſdained to
it Re | rank
( 257 )
rank in the claſs of men. The French writers
| beſtowed the tribute of their praiſe on the tole-
ration granted in Ruſſia and Sweden, while
' Beccaria refuted in Italy the barbarous maxims '
of Gallic juriſprudence. The French alſo
endeavoured to open the eyes of England re-
ſpecting her commercial prejudices, and her
ſuperſtitious reverence for the errors of her
conſtitution ; while the virtuous Howard re-
monſtrated at the ſame time with the French
upon the cool barbarity which ſacrificed ſo
many human victims in their * and |
| hoſpitals,
Neither the violence nor the vb arts
of government, neither the intolerance of
Prieſts, nor even the prejudices of the people
themſelves, poſſeſſed any longer the fatal
power of ſuppreſſing the voice of truth ; and
nothing remained to ſcreen the enemies of
reaſon, or the oppreſſors of liberty, from the
ſentence which was about to be pronounced
upon them by the unanimous ſuffrage of Eu-
rope.
While the fabric of prejudice was thus tot-
tering to its foundations, a fatal blow was
given to it by a doctrine, of which Turgot,
S Price,
6
Price, and Prieſtley were the firſt and moſt
illuſtrious advocates : it was the doctrine of
the infinite perfectibility of the human mind.
The conſideration of this opinion will fall
under the tenth diviſion of our work, where
it will be developed with ſufficient minute-
neſs. But we ſhall embrace this opportunity ;
of expoſing the origin and progreſs of a falſe
ſyſtem of philoſophy, to the overthrow of
which the doctrine of the perfectibility of man
is become ſo neceſlary.
The ſophiſtical doctrine to which 1 allude,
derived its origin from the pride of ſome
men, and the ſelfiſhneſs of others. Its real,
though concealed object, was to give dura-
tion to ignorance, and to prolong the reign
of prejudice. The adherents of this doctrine,
who have been numerous, ſometimes at-
tempted to delude the reaſon by brilliant pa-
radoxes, or to ſeduce it by the ſpecious
charms of an univerſal pyrrhoniſm. Some-
times they aſſumed the boldneſs peremptorily
to declare, that the advancement of know-
ledge threatened the moſt fatal conſequences
to human happineſs and liberty; at other
times they declaimed, with pompous enthu-
ſiaſm
129)
ſiaſm, in favour of an imaginary wiſdom and
ſublimity, that diſdained the cold progreſs of
analyſis, and the tardy mechanical path of
experience. Upon one occaſion, they were
accuſtomed to ſpeak of philoſophy and the
abſtruſe ſciences as theories too ſubtle for the
inveſtigation of the human underſtanding,
urged as we are by daily wants, and ſub-
| jected to the moſt ſudden viciſſitudes; at ano-
ther, they treated them as a maſs of blind and
idle conjectures, the falſe eſtimation of which
was ſure to diſappear from the mind of a man
habituated to life and experience. Inceflantly
did they lament the decay and deerepitude of
knowledge, in the midſt of its moſt brilliant
progreſs ; the rapid degradation of the human
ſpecies, at the moment that men were ready
to aſſert their rights and truſt to their own
underſtandings ; an approaching æra of bar-
bariſm, darkneſs and ſlavery, when evidence
was ſo perpetually accumulating, that the re-
vival of ſuch an æra was no longer to be
feared. They ſeemed humbled by the ad-
vances of their ſpecies, either becauſe they 1
could not boaſt of having contributed to them,
or becauſe they ſaw themſelves menaced with
8 2 a ſpeedy
( 260 \
a ſpeedy teriiagtion of their ;znfluence or im-
portance. In the meanwhile, a certain num-
| ber of intellectual mountebanks, more ſkilful
than thoſe who deſperately endeavoured to
prop the edifice of declining ſuperſtition, at-
tempted, out of the wreck of ſuperſtition, to
erect a new religious creed which ſhould no
longer demand of our reaſon any more than
a ſort of formal ſubmiſſion, and which in-
dulged us with a perfect liberty of conſcience, _
provided we would admit ſome light frag-
ment of incomprehenſibility into our ſyſtem.
A ſecond claſs of theſe mountebanks aſſayed
to revive, by means of ſecret aſſociations, the
forgotten myſteries of a ſort of oriental theurgy.
The errors of the people they left undiſturbed:
upon their own diſciples they entailed new
dogmas and new terrors, and ventured to
hope, by a proceſs of cunning, to reſtore the
ancient tyranny of the ſacerdotal princes of
India and Egypt. In the mean time, philo-
ſophy, leaning upon the pillar which ſcience
had prepared, {ſmiled at their efforts, and ſaw
one attempt vaniſh after another, as the waves
retire from the foot of an immoveable rock.
0 ** the 3 of the public
mind,
{ft 261 )
mind, which I have already ſketched, with
the prevailing ſyſtems of government, we |
ſhall perceive, without difhculty, that an im-
portant revolution was inevitable, and that
there were two ways only in which it could
take place: either the people themſelves would
eſtabliſh a ſyſtem of policy upon thoſe princi-
ples of nature and reaſon, which philoſophy
had rendered ſo dear to their hearts; or go-
vernment might haſten to ſuperſede this event,
by reforming its vices, and governing its con-
duct by the public opinion. One of theſe re-
volutions would be more ſpeedy, more radi»
cal, but alſo more tempeſtuous; the other
leſs rapid, leſs complete, but more tranquil:
in the one, liberty and happineſs would be
' Purchaſed at the expence of tranſient evils;
in the other, theſe evils would be avoided ;
but a part of the enjoyments neceſſary to a
ſtate of perfect freedom, would be retarded in
its progreſs, perhaps, for a conſiderable pe-
riod, though it would be impoſſible 1 in the end
that it ſhould not arrive.
The corruption and ignorance of the
rulers of nations have preferred, it ſeems,
the former of theſe modes; and the ſudden
83 triumph
( 4262)
triumph of reaſon and liberty has avenged
the human race. :.
The ſimple dictates of good ſenſe had
taught the inhabitants of. the Britiſh colo-
Nies, that men born on the American fide of
the Atlantic ocean had received from nature
the ſame rights as others born under the me-
ridian of Greenwich, and that a difference of
fixty-ſix degrees of longitude could have no
power of changing them. They underſtood,
more perfectly perhaps than Europeans, what
were the rights common to all the individuals
of the human race; and among theſe they
included the right of not paying any tax to
which they had not conſented. But the Bri-
tiſh Government, pretending to believe that
God had created America, as well as Aſia,
for the gratification and good pleaſure of the
inhabitants of London, reſolved to hold in
bondage a ſubject nation, ſituated acroſs the
| ſeas at the diſtance of three thouſand miles, |
intending to make her the inſtrument 3 in due
time of enſlaving the mother country itſelf.
5 4 Accordingly, it commanded the ſervile repre-
ſentatives of the people of England to violate
the yin of EX by fubjecting her to a
»
: com-
166
compulſory taxation. This injuſtice, ſhe con-
ceived, authoriſed her to diſſolve every tie of
connection, and ſhe declared her independ-
ence. |
Then was obſerved, os a firſt chives FO
example of a great people throwing off at once
every ſpecies of chains, and peaceably framing
for itſelf the form of government and the Jaws
which it judged would be moſt conducive to
its happineſs; and as, from its geographical
- poſition, and its former political ſtate, it was
obliged to become a federal nation, thirteen
republican conſtitutions were ſeen to grow up
in its boſom, having for their baſis a ſolemn
recognition of the natural rights of man, and
for their firſt object the preſervation of thoſe
rights through every department of the union.
If we examine the nature of theſe conſtitu-
tions, we ſhall diſcover in what reſpect they
were indebted to the progreſs of the political
ſciences, and what was the portion of error,
reſulting from the prejudices of education,
which formed its way into them: why, for
inſtance, the ſimplicity of theſe conſtitutions
is disfigured by the ſyſtem of a balance af
powers ; and why an identity of intereſts,
| 84 rather
( 264 )
rather than an equality of rights, is adopted as
their principle. It is manifeſt that this prin-
ciple of identity of intereſts, when made the
rule of political rights, is not only a violation
of ſuch rights, with reſpe& to thoſe who are
denied an equal ſhare in the exerciſe of them,
but that it ceaſes to exiſt the very inſtant it
becomes an actual inequality. We inſiſt the
rather upon this, as it is the only dangerous
error remaining, the only error reſpecting
which men of enlightened minds want ſtill to
be undeceived. At the ſame time, however,
we ſee realized in theſe republics an idea, at
that time almoſt new even in theory; I mean
the neceſſity of eſtabliſhing by law a regular
and peaceable mode of reforming the conſti-
tutions themſelyes, and of placing this buſi-
neſs in other hands than thoſe entruſted with
the legiſlative power.
Meanwhile, in conſequence of | America
a herſelf independent of the Britiſh
governmemt, a war enſued between the two
enlightened nations, in which one contended
for the natural rights of mankind, the other
for that impious doctrine which ſubjects theſe
Ge to * to political wg
| an
7
Ty
e
and written conventions. The great cauſe at
iſſue was tried, during this war, in the tribu-
nal of opinion, and, as it were, before the
aſſembled nations of mankind. The rights
of men were freely inveſtigated, and ſtre-
nuouſly ſupported, in writings which circu-
lated from the banks of the Neva to thoſe of
the Guadalquivir. Theſe diſcuſſions pene-
trated into the moſt enſlaved countries, into
the moſt diſtant and retired hamlets. The
ſimple inhabitants were aſtoniſned to hear of
rights belonging to them: they enquired into
the nature and importance of thoſe rights;
they found that other men were in arms, to
5 We or to defend them.
In this ſtate of things it could not be *
before the tranſatlantic revolution muſt find
its imitators in the European quarter of the
world. And if there exiſted a country in
which, from attachment to their cauſe, the
writings and principles of the Americans
were more widely diſſeminated than in any
other part of Europe; a country at once the
moſt enlightened, and the leaſt free; in which
philoſophers Had ſoared to the ſublimeſt pitch
of intellectual attainment, and the government
| I
{ 266 )
was ſunk in the deepeſt and moſt intolerable
Ignorance ; where the ſpirit of the laws was
fo far below the general ſpirit and illumina-
tion, that national pride and inveterate preju-
dice were alike aſhamed of vindicating the old
inſtitutions : if, I ſay, there exiſted ſuch a
country, were not the people of that country
deſtined, by the very nature of things, to
give the firſt impulſe to this revolution, ex-
pected by the friends of humanity with ſuch
+ "our impatience, ſuch ardent hope? Accord-
ingly it was to commence with France.
The impolicy and unſkilfulneſs of the F rench
government haſtened the event. It was guided
by the hand of philoſophy, and the popular
force deſtroyed the obſtacles that otherwiſe
might have arreſted its progreſs.
It was more complete, more entire than
that of America, and of conſequence was at-
tended with greater convulſions in the inte-
rior of the nation, becauſe the Americans, ſa-
tisfied with the code of civil and criminal le-
giſlation which they had derived from Eag-
land, having no corrupt ſyſtem of finance to
reform, no feodal tyrannies, no hereditary
diſtinctions, no privileges of rich and power-
„ ful
( 267 )
ful corporations, no ſyſtem of religious into-
lerance to deſtroy, had only to direct their
attention to the eſtabliſhment of new powers
to be ſubſtituted in the place of thoſe hitherto
exerciſed oyer them by the Britiſh govern-
ment. In theſe innovations there was no-
thing that extended to the maſs of the people,
nothing that altered the ſubſiſting relations
formed between individuals: whereas the
French revolution, for reaſons exactly the re-
verſe, had to embrace the whole economy of
ſociety, to change every ſocial relation, to
penetrate to the ſmalleſt link of the political
chain, even to thoſe individuals, who, living
in peace upon their property, or by their in-
duſtry, were equally unconnected with public
commotions, whether by their opinions and
their occupations, or by the intereſts of for-
tune, of ambition, or of glory.
The Americans, as they appeared only to
- combat againſt the tyrannical prejudices of the
mother country, had for allies the rival powers
of England ; while other nations, jealous of |
the wealth, and diſguſted at the pride of that
country, aided, :.y their ſecret aſpirations, the |
triumph of juſtice ; thus all Europe leagued,
| a8
!
( 268 )
as it were, againſt the oppreſſor. The French,
en the contrary, attacked at once the deſpo-
tiſm of kings, the political inequality of conſti-
tutions partially free, the pride and preroga-
tives of nobility, the domination, intolerance,
and rapacity of prieſts, and the enormity of
feodal claims, ſtill reſpected in almoſt every
nation in Europe ; and accordingly the powers
we have mentioned, united in favour of ty-
ranny; and there appeared on the ſide of
the Gallic revolution the voice only of ſome
enlightened ſages, and the timid wiſhes of
certain oppreſſed nations: ſuccours, mean-
while, of which all the artifices of n
have been employed to deprive it. 7
It would be eaſy to ſhow how much more
pure, accurate, and profound, are the prin-
ciples upon which the conſtitution and laws
of France have been formed, than thoſe which
directed the Americans, and how much more
completely the authors have withdrawn them-
ſelves from the influence of a variety of pre-
judices; that the great baſis of policy, the
equality of rights, has never been ſuperſeded
by that fictitious identity of intereſts, which
has is often been made its feeble and hypocri-
tical .
—
( 269 )
tical ſubſtitute ; that the limits preſcribed to
political power have been put in the place of
that ſpecious balance which has ſo long been
admired ; that we were the firſt to dare, in a
great nation neceſſarily diſperſed, and which
cannot perſonally be aſſembled but in broken
and numerous parcels, to maintain in the
people their rights of ſovereignty, the right
of obeying no laws but thoſe which, though
originating in a repreſentative authority, ſhall
have received their laſt ſanction from the na-
tion itſelf, laws which, if they be found in-
jurious to its rights or intereſts, the nation is
always organized to reform by a regular. act of
its ſovereign will.
From the time when the genius of De-
ſcartes impreſſed on the minds of men
that general impulſe, which is the firſt prin-
ciple of a revolution in the deſtiny of the
human ſpecies, to the happy period of entire
ſocial liberty, in which man has not been
able to regain his natural independence till
after having paſſed through a long ſeries of
ages of misfortune and ſlavery, the view of
the progreſs of mathematical and phyſical
ſcience preſents to us an immenſe horizon, of
which
— — —
4
.
_ — — —— — ——
o - — — 2 — —— —
© A OI a — —
*
-*
%
( 250 )
which it is neceſſary to diſtribute and affort
the ſeveral parts, whether we may be deſirous
of fully comprehending the whole, or of ob-
ſerving their mutual relations. |
The application of algebra to geometry not
only became the fruitful ſource of diſco-
veries in both ſciences, but they prove, from
this ſtriking example, how much the method
of computation of magnitudes in general may
be extended to all queſtions, the object of
which conſiſts in meaſure and extenſion. Deſ-
cartes firſt announced the truth, that they
would be employed with equal ſucceſs here-
after upon all objects ſuſceptible of preciſe va= _
luation; and this great diſcovery, by ſhewing
for the firſt time the ultimate purpoſe of theſe
ſciences, that is to ſay, the ſtrict calculation of
every ſpecies of truth, afforded the hope of
attaining this point, at the ſame time that it
exhibited the means.
This diſcovery was ſoon ſucceeded by: that
1 of a new method of computing, which teaches
us to find the ratios of the ſucceſſive incre-
ments or decrements of a variable quantity,
or to deduce the quantity itſelf when this ra-
** 18 ä whether the increments be ſup-
poſed £
627
poſed of finite magnitude, or their ratio be
ſought for the inſtant only of their vaniſh-
ment; a method which, being extended to
all the combinations of variable magnitudes,
and to all the hypotheſes of their variations,
leads to a determination, with regard to all
things preeiſely menſurable, of the ratios of
their elements, or of the things themſelves,
from the knowledge of thoſe proportions
which they mutually have, provided the ra-
tios of their elements only be given.
We are indebted to Newton and Leibnitz
for the invention of theſe methods; but the
labours of the geometers of the preceding age
prepared the way for this diſcovery. The
progreſs of theſe ſciences, which has been un-
" Interrupted for more than a cex.tury,..is the
work, and eſtabliſſies the reputation, of a num-
ber of men of genius. They preſent to the
eyes of the philoſopher, who is able to ob-
ſerve them, even though he may not follow
their ſteps, a ſtriking monument of the force
of the human mind. | 2
When we explain the formation 7 prin-
' giples of algebraic language, which alone is
1 accurate and truly analytic ; the nature of the
technieal
3
4
technical proceſſes of this ſcience; and the
compariſon of theſe proceſſes with the natural
operations of the humal mind, we may
prove that, if this method be not itſelf a pe-
culiar inſtrument in the ſcience of quantity,
It certainly includes the principles of an uni-
verfal inſtrument applicable to all poſſible
combinations of ideas. *
Rational mechanics ſoon became a vaſt and
profound ſcience. The true laws of the col-
liſion of bodies, reſpecting which Deſcartes
was deceived, were at length known.
Huyghens diſcovered the laws of circular
motions ; and at the ſame time he gives a
method of determining the radius of curva-
ture for every point of a given curve. By
uniting both theories, Newton invented the
theory of curve-lined motions, and applied it
to thoſe laws according to which Kepler had
diſcovered that the planets deſcribe their 77
tical orbits.
A planet, ſuppoſed to bis projected into
ſpace at a given inſtant, with a given velocity
and direction, will deſcribe round the ſun an
ellipſis, by virtue of a force directed to that
ſtar, and proportional to the inverſe ratio of
1 2 : I 8 | f the
S
the baits of the diſtances: The ſame force
retains the ſatellites in their orbits round the
primary planets: it pervades the whole ſy{-
tem of heavenly bodies, and acts reciprocally
between all their component parts.
The regularity of the planetary ellipſes is
diſturbed, and the calculation preciſely ex-
plains the very ſlighteſt degrees of theſe per-
turbations. It is equally applicable to the
_ comets, and determines their orbits with ſuch
preciſion, as to foretel their return. The pe-
culiar motion obſerved in the axes of rota-
tion of the earth and the moon, affords addi-
tional proof of the exiſtence of this univerſal
force. Laſtly, it is the cauſe of the weight of
terreſtrial bodies, in which effect it appears to
be-invariable, becauſe we have no means of
obſerving its action at diſtances from the cen-
tre, which are ſufficiently remote from each
okher.
Thus we ſee man has at laſt beate ac-
quainted, for the firſt time, with one of the
phyſical laws of the univerſe. Hitherto it
ſtands unparalleled, as does the glory of him
who diſcovered it. |
An hundred years of labour and inveſtiga-
| 6 3 KY tion
(274)
tion have confirmed this law, to which all
the celeſtial phenomena are ſubjected, with
an accuracy which may be ſaid to be miracu-
lous. Every time in which an apparent de-
viation has preſented itſelf, the tranſient un-
certainty has ſoon become a ſubject of. new
triumph to the ſcience. |
The philoſopher is, in almoſt every 1
| compelled to have recourſe to the works of a
man of genius for the ſecret clue which led
him to diſcovery ; but here intereſt, inſpired
by admiration, has diſcovered and preſerved
anecdotes of the greateſt value, ſince they per-
mit us to follow Newton ſtep by ſtep. They
ſerve to ſhew how much the happy combina-
tions of external events, or chance, unite with
the efforts of genius in producing a great dif.
covery, and how eaſily combinations of a leſs
favourable nature might have retarded them,
or reſerved them for other hands. -
But Newton did more, perhaps, in favour
of the progreſs of the human mind, than
merely diſcovering this general law of nature;
he taught men to admit in natural philo-
ſophy no other theories but ſuch as are pre-
ciſe, and ſuſceptible of calculation; which give
(275)
an acoqunit. not only of the exiſtence .of a
phenomenon, but its quantity and extent.
| Nevertheleſs he was accuſed of reviving the
occult qualities of the ancients, becauſe he
had confined himſelf to refer the general cauſe
of celeſtial appearances to a ſimple fact, of
which obſervation proved the inconteſtable
reality; and this accuſation is itſelf a' proof
how much the methods of the ſciences ftill
require to be enlightened by philoſophy.
A great number of problems in ſtatics and
dynamics had been ſucceſſively propoſed and
reſolved, when Alembert diſcovered a general
principle adequate to the determination of the
_ motions of any number of points acted on by
any forces, and connected by conditions. He
ſoon extended the ſame principle to finite bo-
dies of a determinate figure; to thoſe which, _
from elafticity or flexibility, are capable of
changing their figure, but according to cer-
tain laws and preſerving certain relations be-
tween their parts; and laſthy to fluids them-
ſelves, whether they preſerve the ſame den-
ſity, or exiſt in a ſtate of expanſibility. A
new calculation was neceſſary to reſolve theſe
laſt queſtions; the means did not eſcape him,
T x and
1
and mechanics at preſent form a ſcience of
pure calculation.
Theſe diſcoveries belong to the mathema-
| deal ſciences ; but the nature of the law of
univerſal gravitation, or of theſe principles
of mechanics, and the conſequences which
may thence be drawn and. applied to the
eternal order of the univerſe, belong to phi-
loſophy. We learn that all bodies are ſubject
to neceſſary laws, which tend of themſelves
to produce or maintain an equilibrium, which
_ cauſes or preſerves the regularity of their
motions.
The knowledge of thoſe laws which go-
yern the celeftial phenomena, the diſcoveries
of that mathematical analyſis which leads to
the moſt preciſe methods of calculating the
appearances, the very unexpected degree of
perfection to which optical and goniometrical
inſtruments have been brought, the preciſion
of machines for meaſuring time, the more
general taſte for the ſciences, which unites
Itſelf with the intereſt of governments, to
ann the number of aſtronomers and ob-
ſervations; all theſe cauſes unite to ſecure the
e of „
The
67
The heavens are enriched for the man of
ſcience with new ſtars, and he applies his
knowledge to determine and foretel with ac-
curacy their poſition and movements. Na-
tural philoſophy, gradually delivered from the
vague explanations of Deſcartes, in the ſame
manner as it before was diſembarraſſed from
the abſurdities of the ſchools, is now nothing
more than the art of interrogating nature by
experiment, for the purpoſe of afterwards
deducing more general facts by cemputation.
The weight of the air is known and mea-
| ſured: it is known that the tranſmiſſion of
light is not inſtantaneous ; its velocity is deter-
mined, with the effects which muſt reſult from
that velocity, as to the apparent poſition of
the celeſtial bodies ; and the decompoſition of
the-ſolar rays into others of different refrangi-
bility and colour. The rainbow is explained,
and the methods of cauſing its colours to be
produced or to diſappear are ſubjected to cal-
culation. Electricity, formerly conſidered as
the property of certain ſubſtances only; 1s
now known to be one of the moſt general
phenomena in the univerſe. The cauſe of
thunder is no longer a ſecret; Franklin has
| T's VI taught _
( #78 )
taught the artiſt to change its courſe, 'and di-
rect it at pleaſure, New inftruments are em-
ployed to meaſure the variations of weight
and humidity in the atmoſphere, and the tem-
perature of all bodies. A new ſcience, under
the name of meteorology, teaches us to know,
and ſometimes to foretel, the atmoſpheric ap-
pearances of which it will hereafter diſcloſe ta
us the unknown laws.
While we preſent a ſketch of chaſe diſco-
veries, we may remark how much the me-
thods which have directed philoſophers in
their reſearches are ſimplified and braught to
perfection; how greatly the art of making
experiments, and of conſtructing inſtruments,
has ſucceſſively become more accurate; ſo
that philoſophy is not only enriched every
day with new truths, but the truths already
known have been more exactly aſcertained;
fo that not only an immenſe maſs of new
facts have been obſerved and analyſed, but the
whole has been ſubmitted in detail to quethode
of greater ſtrictneſs.
Natural philoſophy has been obliged to
: gombat with the prejudices of the ſchools, and
the non of youu hypotheſes, ſo ſer
ducing |
a
ducing to indolence. Other obſtacles re-
tarded the progreſs of chemiſtry. It was
imagined that this ſcience ought to afford the
ſecret of making gold, and that of —_—
man immortal,
The effect of great ie is to db
man ſuperſtitious. , It was not ſuppoſed that
ſuch promiſes, which flatter the two ſtrongeſt
paſſions of vulgar minds, and beſides rouſe
that of acquiring glory, could be accompliſhed
by ordinary means; and every thing which
credulity or folly could ever invent of extra-
vagance, ſeemed to unite in the minds of che-
mig.
But theſe e gradually gave loan to ;
the mechanical philoſophy of Deſcartes, which
in its turn gave place to a chemiſtry truly ex-
| perimental. - The obſervation of thoſe facts
which accompany the mutual compoſition and
decompoſition of bodies, the reſearch. into the
| laws of theſe operations, with the analyſis of
ſubſtances into elements of greater ſimplicity, |
acquire a degree of re and ſtrictneſa
ever increaſing.
But to theſe advances of chemiſtry we muſt |
1 others, which embrace the whole ſyſtem
pf of
A 280 )
of the ſcience, and rather by extending the
methods than immediately increaſing the maſs
of truths, foretel and prepare a revolution of
the happieſt kind. Such has been the diſco-
very of new means of confining and examining
thoſe elaſtic fluids, which formerly were ſuf-
fered to eſcape ; a diſcovery which, by per-
mitting us to operate upon an entire claſs
of new principles, and upon thoſe already
known, reduced to a ſtate which eſcaped our
reſearches, and by adding an element the
more to almoſt every combination, has
changed, as it were, the whole ſyſtem of
chemiſtry, Such has been the formation of
a language, in which the names denoting |
ſubſtances ſometimes expreſs the reſemblance
dit erences of thoſe which have a common
element, and ſometimes the claſs to which
they belong. To theſe advantages we may
add the uſe of a ſcientific method, wherein
theſe ſubſtances are repreſented by characters
analytically combined, and moreover capable |
of expreſſing the moſt common operations and
the general laws of affinity. And, again,
this ſeience is enriched by the uſe of all the
means and all the inſtruments which philoſo-
Pen
(
phers have applied to compute with the ut
moſt rigor the reſults of experiment; and
laſtly, by the application of the mathematics to
the phenomena of chryſtalization, and to the
laws according to which the elements of cer-
tain bodies effect in their nenn en
5 and conſtant forms.
Men who long had poſſeſſed no other
knowledge than that of explaining by ſuper-
ſtitious or philoſophical reveries the forma-
tion of the earth, before they endeavoured to „
become acquainted with its parts, have at laſt
perceived the neceſſity of ſtudying with the
moſt ſcrupulous attention the ſurface of
the ground, the internal parts of the. earth
into which neceſſity has urged men to pene-
trate, the ſubſtances there found, their for-
tuitous or regular diſtribution, and the diſpoſi-
tion of the maſſes they have formed by their
union. They have learned to aſcertain the
effects of the ſlow and long- continued action of
the waters of the ſea, of rivers, and the effect of
volcanic fires ; to diſtinguiſh thoſe parts of the
ſurface and exterior cruſt of the glabe, of
which the inequalities, diſpoſition, and fre-
quently t the materials themſelves, are the work
LE
6282)
of theſe agents; from the other portion of the
ſurface, formed for the moſt part of heteroge-
neous ſubſtances, bearing the marks of more
ancient revolutions by agents with which we
are yet unacquainted.
Minerals, vegetables, and animale - are Gu
vided into various ſpecies, of which the indi-
viduals differ by inſenſible variations ſcarcely
_ conſtant, or produced by caules purely local.
Many of theſe ſpecies reſemble each other
by a greater or leſs number of common qua-
lities, which ſerve to eſtabliſh ſucceſſive divi-
ſions regularly more and more extended. Na-
turaliſts have invented methods of claſhng the
objects of ſcience from determinate characters
ealily aſcertained, the only, means of avoiding
confuſion in the midſt of this numberleſs
_ multitude of individuals. Theſe methods are,
Indeed, a real language, wherein each obje&
is denoted by ſome of its moſt conſtant qua-
lities, which, when known, are applicable to
the diſcovery of the name which the article
mzy bear in common language. Theſe gene-
ral languages, when well compoſed, likewiſe
indicate, in each claſs of natural objects, the
_ 4ruly ente n which by their union
cauſe
(200%
cauſe a more or leſs perfect reſemblance _
reſt of their properties.
We have formerly ſeen the effects of that
pride which magnifies in the eyes of men the
objects of an excluſive ſtudy, and knowledge
painfully acquired, which attaches to theſe
methods an exaggerated degree of importance,
and miſtakes for ſcience itſelf that which is
nothing more than the dictionary and gram-
mar of its real language. And fo likewiſe,
by a contrary exceſs, we have ſeen philoſo-
phers falſely degrade theſe ſame methods, and
_ confound them with arbitrary nnn
as futile and laborious eompilations. |
The chemical analyſis of the ſubſtances in
che three great kingdoms of nature; the de-
feription of their external form; the expoſi-
tion of their phyſical qualities and uſual pro-
perties; the hiſtory of the developement of
organized bodies, animals, or plants; their nu-
trition and reproduction; the details of their
organization; the anatomy of their various
parts; the functions of each; the hiſtory of
the manners of animals, and cls induſtry to
procure food, defence, and habitation, or to
ſeize their prey, or eſcape from their enemies ;
i no the
( 284 )
the ſocieties of family or ſpecies which are
formed amongſt them; that great maſs of
truth to which we are led by meditating on
the immenſe chain of organiſed beings ; the
relation which ſucceſſive years produce from
brute matter at the moſt feeble degree of orga-
nization, from organiſed matter to that which
affords the firſt indications of ſenſibility and
{ſpontaneous motion; and from this ſtation to
that of man himſelf ; the relation of all theſe
beings with him, whether relative to his wants,
the analogies which bring him nearer to them,
or the differences by which he is ſeparated :
ſuch is the ſketch preſented to the mind by
modern natural hiſtory, |
The phyſical man is himſelf the ohj ect of a
ſeparate ſcience, anatomy, which, in its ge-
neral acceptation, includes phyſiology. This
ſcience, which a ſuperſtitious reſpect for the
dead had retarded, has taken advantage of the
general diſappearance of prejudice, and has
happily oppoſed the intereſt of the preſerva-
tion of man, which has ſecured it the patro-
nage of men of eminence. Its progreſs has
been ſuch, that it ſeems in ſome ſort to be at
a ſtand, in the expectation of more perfect
inſtru-
(265)
inſtruments and new methods. It is nearly
reduced to ſeek, in the comparative anatomy
of the parts of animals and man, in the organs
common to the different ſpecies, and the man-
ner in which they exerciſe ſimilar functions,
thoſe truths which the direct obſervation of
the human frame appears to refuſe. Almoſt
every thing which the eye of the obſerver,
aſſiſted by the microſcope, has been able to diſ-
cover, is already aſcertained. Anatomy ap-
pears to ſtand in need of experiments, ſo uſe-
ful to the progreſs of other ſciences; but the
nature of its object deprives it of this means,
ſo evidently neceſſary to its perfection.
I; be circulation of the blood was long ſince
known; but the diſpoſition of the veſſels
which conveyed the chyle to mix with it,
and repair its loſſes; the exiſtence of a gaſtric
fluid which diſpoſes the elements to the de-
compoſition neceſſary to ſeparate from orga-
niſed matter, that portion which is proper to
become aſſimilated with the living fluids; the
changes undergone by the various parts and
organs in the interval between conception and
birth, and afterwards during the different
ages of be; the diſtinction between the parts
FRY
© bs
£ * _ WA. 3X20 WEIR » es 2
EC — — — -
— —
— —
——ů—ů
( 286 )
poſſeſſing ſenſibility and thoſe in which irri-
tability only reſides, a property diſcovered by
Haller, and common to almoſt every organic
ſubſtance : theſe facts are the whole of what
phyſiology has been enabled to diſcover, by
indubitable obſervations, during this brilliant
epoch ; and theſe important truths may ſerve
as an apology for the numerous explanations,
mechanical, chemical, and organical, which
have ſucceeded each other, and loaded this
ſcience with hypotheſes deſtructive to its pro-
greſs, and dangerous when uſed as the ground
of medical practice.
To the outline of the ſciences we may add
that of the arts, which, being founded upon
them, have advanced with greater certainty,
and broken the ſhackles of cuſtom and com-
mon practice, which heretofore en their
progreſs.
We may ſhew the influence which the pro-
greſs of mechanics, of aſtronomy, of optics,
and of the art of meaſuring time, has exer-
ciſed on the art of conſtructing, moving, and
directing veſſels at ſea. We may ſhew how
greatly an increaſe of the number of obſervers,
and a greater * of er in the aſtro-
nomical _
2
6 1
nomical determinations of poſitions, and in
topographical methods, have at laſt produced
an acquaintance with the ſurface of the globe,
of which ſo little was known at the end of
the laſt century.
Ho greatly the mechania arts, 1
* called, have given perfection to the pro-
ceſſes of art in conſtructing inſtruments and
machines in the practice of trade, and theſe
laſt have no leſs added force to rational me-
chaniſm and philoſophy. Theſe arts are alſo
greatly indebted to the employment of firſt
movers already known, with leſs of expence
and loſs, as well as to the invention of new
principles of motion.
We have beheld architecture expo its
orfenrihes into the ſcience of equilibriums and
the theory of fluids, for the means of giving
the moſt commodious and leaſt expenſive form
to arches, without fear of altering their ſoli-
dity; and to oppoſe againſt the effort of water
a reſiſtance computed with greater certainty. ;
to direct the courſe of that fluid, and to em-
ploy it in canals with greater {kill and ſuc-
ceſs. |
We have beheld the arts s dependent on
chemiſtry
i 288 )
chemiſtry enriched with new proceſſes; the an-
cient methods have been ſimplified, and cleared
from uſeleſs or noxious ſubſtances, and from:
abſurd or imperfect practices introduced from
former rude trials ; means have been invented
to avert thoſe frequently terrible dangers to
which workmen were expoſed. Thus it is
- that the application of ſcience has ſecuted to
us more of riches and enjoyment, with much
leſs of painful ſacrifice or of regret. |
In the mean-time, chemiſtry, botany, and
-natural hiſtory, have very much enlightened
the economical arts, and the culture of vege-
tables deſtined to ſupply our wants; ſuch as the
art of ſupporting, multiplying, and preſerving
domeſtic animals; the bringing their races to
perfection, and meliorating their products;
the art of preparing and preſerving the pro-
ductions of the earth, or thoſe articles which
are of animal product.
Surgery and pharmacy have become almoſt
new arts, from the period when anatomy and
chemiſtry have offered them more enlightened
and more certain direction.
The art of medicine, for in its We it
3 muſt be conſidered as an an, is by this means
| deli-
+ 289 F
delivered at leaſt of its falſe theories, its lan-
tic jargon, its deſtructive courſe of practice,
and the ſervile ſubmiſſion to the arithority'6f
men, or the doctrine of colleges; it is tatight
to depend only on experience. The means
of this art have become multiplied, and their
combination and application better knowti;
and though it'may be admitted that in toad -
parts its progreſs is merely of a negative kind,
rhat is to ſay, in the deſtruction of dangerous
practices and hurtful ptejudices, yet the ne
methods of ſtudying chemical medicine, and
of combining obſprvations, give us reaſon to |
expect more real and certain advan ces.
We may endeavour more eſpecially to trace
that practice of genius in the ſciences which
at one time deſcends from an abſtract and pro-
found theory to learned and delicate applica-
tions; at another, fimplifying its means, and
proportioning them to its wants, concludes by |
ſpreading its advantages through the moſt or-
dinary practices; and at others again being
rouzed by the wants of this fame courſe of
art, it plunges: into the moſt remote ſpecula-
tions, in ſearch of reſources which the ordi-
nary ſtate of our knowledge muſt have refuſed.
HJ 4 U 7 - We
( 290} .
We may remark that thoſe declamations
8 are made againſt the utility of. theo-
Ties, even in the moſt ſimple arts, have never
ſhewn any thing but the ignorance of the
declaimers. We may prove that it is, gt 8
the profundity of theſe theories, but, on the
contrary, to their imperfection, that we
ought to attribute the inutility or unhappy
effects of ſo many uſeleſs applications.
. Theſe obſervations will lead us to one ge-
| neral truth, that in all the arts the reſults of
theory are neceſſarily modiſied in practice;
that certain ſources of inaccuracy exiſt, which
are really inevitable, of which our aim ſhould .
be to render the effect inſenſible, without in-
dulging the chimerical hope of removing them;
that a great number of data relative to our
wants, our means, our time, and our ex-
pences, which are neceſſarily overlooked in
the theory, muſt enter into the relative prob-
lem of immediate and real practice; and that,
laſtly, by introducing theſe requiſites with
that {kill which truly conſtitutes the genius
of the practical man, we may at the ſame
time go beyond the narrow limits wherein
prejudice againſt theory threatens to detain.
the
( 291 )
the arts, and prevent thoſe errors into which
an improper uſe of theory might lead us.
Thoſe ſciences which are remote from each
other, cannot be extended without bringing
them nearer, and min Points of contact
between them. ;
An expoſition of the progreſs of each ſci-
ence is ſufficient to ſhew, that in ſeveral the
intermediate application of numbers has been
uſeful, as; in almoſt all, it has been employed
to give a greater degree of preciſion to expe-
riments and obſervations ; and that the ſcien-
ces are indebted to mechanics, which has
ſupplied them with more perfect and more
accurate inſtruments. How much have the
diſcovery of microſcopes, and of meteorolo-
gical inſtruments, contributed to the perfec-
tion of natural hiſtory. How greatly is this
ſcience indebted to chemiſtry, which, alone,
haas been ſufficient to lead to a more profound
knowledge of the objects it conſiders, by
diſplaying their moſt intimate nature, and
moſt eſſential properties - by ſhewing their
compoſition and elements; while natural his-
tory offers to chemiſtry ſo many operations
to execute, ſuch a numerous ſet of combina-
U 2 tions
6292)
.
ions formed by nature, the true elements ot
which require to be ſeparated, and ſometimes
diſcovered, by an imitation of the natural
proceſſes: and, laſtly, how great is the mu-
tual aſſiſtance afforded to each other by che-
miſtry and natural philoſophy; and how
greatly have anatomy and natural hiſtory
been already benefited by theſe ſciences.
But we have yet expoſed no more than a
ſmall portion of the advantages which have
been received, or may be expected, from
theſe applications.
Many geometers have d= us .
methods of deducing, from obſervations of
the empiric laws of phenomena, methods
which extend to all the ſciences; becauſe
they are in all cafes capable of affording us
the knowledge of the law of the ſucceſſive
values of the ſame: quantity, for a ſeries of
inſtants or poſitions; or that law according
to which they are diſtributed, or which is
followed by the various properties and values
of a ſimilar quality — A ee number
of objects.
Applications have Ae nd that
the — of combination may be ſucceſs-
fully
6293)
fully employed to diſpoſe obſervations, in
ſuch à manner, that their relations, reſults,
and ſum may with more facility be ſeen.
The uſes of the calculation of probabilities
foretel how much they may be applied to
advance the progreſs of other ſciences; in
one caſe, to determine the probability of ex«
traordinary facts, and to ſhew whether they
ought to be rejected, or whether, on the
contrary, they ought to be verified; or in
calculating the probability of the return of
thoſe facts which often preſent themſelves in
the practice of the arts, and are not con-
nected together in an order, yet conſidered
as a general law, Such, for example, in
medicine, is the ſalutary effect of certain re-
medies, and the ſueceſs of certain preſerva-
tives. Theſe applications likewiſe ſhew us
how great is the probability that a ſeries of
phenomena ſhould reſult from the intention
of a thinking being; whether this being
depends on other co-exiftent, or antecedent
phenomena; and how much ought to be
attributed to the neceſſary and unknown
cauſe denominated chance, a word the ſenſe
of which can only be known with preciſion
by ins this method of computing.
| WI. The
(294)
The ſciences have likewiſe taught us te
aſcertain the ſeveral degrees of certainty to
which we may hope to attain; the probabiz
lity according to which we can adopt an
opinion, and make it the baſis of our reaſons
ings, without injuring the rights of ſound
argument, and the rules of our conduct
without deficiency in prudence, or offence to
juſtice. They ſhew what are the advantages
or difadvaptages of various forms of election,
and modes of deciſion dependant on the
plurality of voices; the different degrees of
probability which may reſult from ſuch pro-
ceedings ; the method which public intereſt
requires to he followed, according to the na-
ture of each queſtion; the means of obtain-
ing it nearly with certainty, when the deci-
ſion is not abſolutely neceſſary, or when the
1nconveniences of two concluſions being un-
equal, neither of them can become legitimate
until beneath. this probability; or the aſſur-
ance beforehand of moſt frequently obtaining
this ſame probability, when, on the contrary,
a deciſion is neceſſary to be made, and the
moſt feeble preponderance of probability is
ſufficient to produce a rule of "_ 1
. Among
( 295 )
Among the number of theſe applications
we may likewiſe ſtate, an examination of the
probability of facts for the uſe of ſuch as
have not the power, or means, to ſupport
their eoncluſions upon their own obſervations;
a probability which reſults either from the
authority of witneſſes, or the connection of
thoſe facts with others immediately obſerved.
How greatly have inquiries into the dura-
tion of human life, and the influence in this
reſpect of ſex, temperature, climate, profeſ-
ſion, government, and habitudes of life; on
the mortality which reſults from different di-
ſeaſes; the changes which population expe-
riences; the extent of the action of different
cauſes which produce theſe changes; the
manner of its diſtribution in each country,
according to the age, ſex, and occupation:
how greatly uſeful have theſe reſearches been
to the phyſical knowledge of man, to medi-
cine, and to public economy, _
How extenſively have computations. of
this nature been applied for the eſtabliſhment
of | annuities, tontines, accumulating funds,
benefit eng; and nn bn] f aſfyranes
of bad kind. d
v4 ; Is
( 296 )
Is not the application of numbers alſo ne-
ceflary to that part of the public economy
which includes. the theory of public meaſures,
of coin, of banks and financial: operations,
and laſtly, that of taxation, as eſtabliſhed by
law, and its real diſtribution, which ſo fre-
quently differs, in its effects on all the _
of the ſocial. ſyſtem. M 229410 ui, eat gion
What a number of important ein
this ſame ſcience are there, which could not
have been properly reſolved without the
knowledge acquired in natural hiſtory, agri-
culture, and the philoſophy of vegetables,
which ee the n or chemical
ares. 11 14 75 1
In a e uch "A hs 5 nk pro-
greſs of the ſciences, that it may be ſaid
there is not one which can be conſidered as
to the whole extent of its principles and de-
tail, without our being obliged to dee the
aſſiſtance of all the others.
"Fn preſenting this ſketch both dE mas new
facts which have enriched the ſciences reſ-
pectively, and the e ee derived in each
from. che application of theories, or methods,
which leem to delong : more particularly to
another
6297)
another department of knowledge, we may
endeavour to aſcertain what is the nature and
the limits of thoſe truths to which obſerva-
tion, experience, or meditation, may lead us
in each ſcience; we may likewiſe inveſtigate
what it is preciſely that conſtitutes: that talent
of invention which is the firſt faculty of the
human mind, and is known by the name
of genius; by what operations the under-
ſtanding may attain the diſcoveries it purſues,
or ſometimes be led to others not ſought, or
even poſſible to have been foretold; we may
| ſhew how far the methods which lead to
diſcovery may be exhauſted, ſo that ſcience
may, in a certain reſpect, be at a ſtand, till
new methods are invented to afford an addi»
tional inſtrument to genius, or to facilitate.
the uſe of thoſe which cannot be employed
without too great a AIAN * fims: and
fatigue.
If we conſine 5 to bib the v4 |
| yantages deduced from the ſciences in their im-
. mediate uſe or application to the arts, Whether
for the welfare of individuals or the proſperity
of nations, we ſhall have ſhewn only a ſmall
part of the benefits they afford. The moſt
important
4
1
— — TOE , »
4 2 . a E REST 4 2 . my a . *
„ * 2 w — 4 2 — — — - by . \ :
= FE — * k -
*
— — 2 — — ZZ — — — . ˙—˙ ˖˙] . —·˙ܹ0 ⁰⁰ . ˙
298)
kmportant-perhaps is, that prejudice has been
deſtroyed, and the human underſtanding in
ſome ſort rectiſied; after having been forced
into a wrong direction by abſurd objects of
belief, tranſmitted from generation 'to gene-
ration, taught at the misjudging period of
infancy, and enforced with the terrors of ſu-
periion and the dread of tyranny. ©
All the errors in politics and in morals are
founded upon philoſophical miſtakes, which,
themſelves, are connected with phyſical er-
rors. There does not exiſt | any religious
fyſtem, or ſupernatural extravagance, which is
not founded on an ignorance of the laws of
nature. The inventors and defenders of theſe
abſurdities could not foreſee the ſucceſſive
progreſs of the human mind. Being per-
faaded that the men of their time knew every
thing, they would ever know, and would al-
ways believe that in which they then had fixed
their faith; they confidently built their re-
veries upon the general eee of their own
country and their own age. 4
The progreſs of natural knowledge 1 is yet
more deſtructive of theſe errors, becauſe it
e deſtroys them without ſceming to
1 ly ; attack
( 299 )
attack them, by attaching to thoſe who obſtis
nately n 1 PENS en nm 15
ignorance; / 495%
i At donde time, this my habit of reaſons”
ing on the object of theſe ſciences, "the pre-
ciſe ideas which their methods afford, and
the means of aſcertaining or proving the
truth, muſt naturally lead us to compare the
fentiment which forces us to adhere” to opi-
nions founded on theſe real motives of credi-
bility, and that which attaches us to our ha-
bitual prejudices, or forces us to yield to au-
thority. This compariſon is ſufficient to
teach us to miſtruſt theſe laſt opinions, to
thew that they were not really believed, even
when that belief was the moſt earneſtly and
the moſt fincerely profeſſed. When this
diſcovery is once made, their deſtruction be⸗
eomes much more ſpeedy and certain.
. Laſtly, this progreſs of the phyſical ſciences,
| which the paſſions and intereſt do not inter-
fere to diſturb; wherein it is not thought
that birth, profeſſion, or appointment have
given a right to judge what the individual is
not in a ſituation to underſtand ; this more
certain progres cannot be obſerved, unleſs
EO
( 300 }
enhghtened men ſhall ſearch in the other
ſciences to bring them continually together.
This progreſs at every ſtep exhibits the model
they ought to follow; according which
they may form a judgment of their own ef-
forts, aſcertain the falſe ſteps they may have
taken, preſerve themſelves from pyrrhoniſm
as well as credulity, and from a blind miſtruſt
or too extenſive ſubmiſſion to the authorities
even of men of reputation and knowledge.
The metaphyſical analyſis would, no doubt,
lead to the ſame. reſults, but it would have
afforded only abſtrat principles. In this
method, the ſame abſtract principles being
put into action, are COR oy n
and fortified by ſucceſs.
Until the preſent epoch, the dene have
Hola the patrimany only of a few; but they
| are already become common, and the mo-
ment approaches in which their elements,
their principles, and their moſt ſimple prac-
tice, will become really popular. Then it
will be ſeen how truly univerſal their utility
will be in their application to the arts, and
their influence on the e e of
„„
We
6 30)
We may trace the pro PTY of European
nations in the inſtruction of children, or of
men; a progreſs hitherto feeble, if we attend
merely to the philoſophical ſyſtem of this
inſtruction, which, in moſt parts, is ſtill con-
fined, ' to the prejudices of the ſchools; but
very rapid if we conſider the extent and na-
ture of the objects taught, which no longer
eomprehending any points of knowledge but
ſuch as are real, includes the elements of
almoſt all the ſciences; while men of all
deſeriptions find in dictionaries, abridgments,
and journals the information they require,
though not always of the pureſt kind. We
may examine the degree of utility reſulting
from oral inſtruction in the ſeiences, added
to that which is immediately received by
books and ſtudy; whether any advantage has
reſulted from the labour of compilation hav-
ing become a real trade, a means of ſubſiſt-
ence, which has multiplied the number of
inferior works, but has likewiſe multiplied
the means of acquiring common knowledge
to men of ſmall information. We may mark
the influence which learned ſocieties have
exerciſed on the progreſs of the human
mind,
( 302 j
mind, a barrier which will long bes uſeful to
oppoſe againſt ignorant pretenders and falſe
knowledge: and laſtly, we may exhibit the
| hiſtory of the encouragements given by go-
vernments to that progreſs, and the obſtacles
which have often been oppoſed to it in the
ſame country and at the ſame period. We
may ſhew what prejudices or principles of
Machiaveliſm have directed them in this op-
poſition to the advances of man towards
truth; what views of intereſted policy, or
even public good, have directed them when
they have appeared, on the contrary, to be
deſirous of accelerating and protecting them.
The picture of the fine arts offers to our
view reſults of no leſs brilliancy. Muſic is
become, in a certain reſpect, a new art;
while the ſcience of combination, and the ap-
plication of numbers to the vibrations of ſo-
norous bodies, and the oſcillations of the air,
have enlightened its theory. The arts of
deſign, which formerly paſſed from Italy to
Flanders, Spain, and France, elevated them-
ſelyes in this laſt country to the ſame degree
that Italy carried them in the preceding
gehe where N have been ſupported
| __ with
( 303 )
with more: reputation than in Italy itſelf.
The art of our painters is that of Raphael
and Carrachi. All the means of the art be-
ing preſerved in the ſchools, are ſo far from
being loſt, that they have become more ex-
tended. Nevertheleſs, it muſt be admitted,
that too long a time has elapſed without
producing a genius which may be compared
to them, to admit of this long fterility being
attributed to chance. It is not becauſe the
means of art are exhauſted that great ſucceſs is
really become difficult; it is not that nature
has refuſed us organs equally perfect with
thoſe of the Italians of the ſixth age; it is
merely to the changes of politics and man-
ners that we ought to attribute, not the de-
cay of the art, but the W e of its .
ductions. |
_ Literary productions nne in man
with leſs of ſucceſs, but without having de-
generated, have made ſuch ' progreſs in the
French language, as has acquired it the ho-
nour of becoming, in ſome ſort, the. univer-
ſal language of Europe.
Ihe tragic. art, in the * Wy Corncille;
8 and Vokaire, has been raiſed, by
ny ſucceſſive
*
Sicteſfve Wet to a perfection * un- |
known: The comic art is indebted to“ Mo-
liere for having: ſpeedily arrived to an eleva-
tion not yet attained by any other people.
In England, from the commencement of the
fame epoch, and in 'a ſtill later time in Ger-
many, language has been rendered more per-
fect. The art of poetry, as well as that of
proſe writing, have been ſubjected, though |
with lefs docility than in France, to the uni-
verſal rules of reaſon and nature, which
ought to direct them. Theſe rules are equally
true for all languages and all people, though
the number of men has hitherto been few
who have ſucceeded in arriving at the know-
ledge of them, and rifing to the juſt and
pure taſte which reſults from that knowledge.
Theſe rules preſided over the compoſitions of
Sophocles and Virgil, as well as thoſe of Pope
and Voltaire; they taught the Greeks and
Romans, as well as the French, to be ſtruck
with the ſame beauties, and ſhocked at the
fame faults. We may alſo. inveſtigate what
it is in each nation that has favoured or re-
tarded the progreſs of theſe" arts; by what
a cauſes the different kinds of poetry, or works 4
-”
*
E
in proſe, have attained in the different couna
tries a degree of perfection ſo unequal; and
how far theſe univerſal rules may, without
offending their own fundamental principles,
be modified by the manners and opinions of
the people who are to poſſeſs their produc-
tions, and even by the nature of the uſes to
which their different ſpecies are deſigned.
Thus, for example, a tragedy daily recited
before a ſmall number of ſpectators, in a
theatre of confined extent, cannot follow the
ſame practical rules as a tragedy exhibited on
an immenſe theatre, in the ſolemn feſtivals
to which a whole people was invited. We
may attempt to ſhew, that the rules of taſte
poſſeſs the ſame generality and the ſame con-
ſtancy, though they are ſuſceptible of the
ſame modifications. as the other laws of the
moral and phyſical univerſe,” when it is ne-
ceſſary to apply them to the — _
tice of a common art. ; |
We may ſhew how far the art 5 "OY
1 ing, by multiplying and diſſeminating even.
thoſe works which are deſigned to be pub-
licly read or recited, tranſmit them to a
number of readers incomparably greater than
( 306 ) |
that of the auditors. We may ſhew how
moſt of the important deciſions by numerous
aſſemblies, having been determined from the
previous inſtruction their members had re-
ceived by writing, there muſt have reſulted
in the art of perſuaſion among the ancients
and among the moderns, differences in the
rules, analogous to the effect intended to be
produced and the means employed; and how,
laſtly, in the different ſpecies of knowledge,
even with the ancients, certain works were
for peruſal only—ſuch as thoſe of hiſtory or
philoſophy. The facility which the inven-
tion of printing affords, to enter into a more
entenſive detail and more accurate develope-
ment, muſt have likewiſe influenecd the
ſame rules.
The progreſs of philoſophy and the ſei-
ences have extended and - favoured thoſe of |
letters, and theſe in their turn have ſerved
to render the ſtudy of the ſciences more eaſy,
and philoſophy itſelf more popular. They
have lent mutual affiſtance to each other, in
ſpite of the efforts of ignorance and folly to
. difunite and render them inimical. Erudi-
. which a * ect for human authority
| and
3
( 30%
and ancient things ſeemed to have deſtined
to ſupport the cauſe of hurtful prejudices;
this erudition has, nevertheleſs, aſſiſted in
deſtroying them, becauſe the ſciences and
philoſophy have enlightened it with a more
legitimate eriticiſm. It already knew the
method of weighing authorities, and com-
paring them with each other, but it has at
length ſubmitted them to the tribunal of rea-
ſon; it had rejected the prodigies, abſurd
tales, and facts contrary to probability; but,
by attacking the teſtimony upon which they
were ſupported, men have learned to reject
them, in ſpite of the force of theſe witneſſes,
that they might give way to that evidence
which the phyſical or moral improbability of
extraordinary facts might carry with them. _
Hence it is ſeen that all the intelleQual
occupations of men, however differing in
their object, their method, or the qualities
of mind which they require, have concurred
in the progreſs of human reaſon. It is the _
ſame with the entire ſyſtem of the labours
of men as with a well-compoſed work; of
which the parts, though methodically diſtin&,
mult, nevertheleſs, be cloſely connected to
d 2 þ form.
| 63586
form one ſingle whole, and rend to one Gogle
object. |
While we thus take a general v view of the
human ſpecies, we may prove that the diſ-
covery of true methods in all the ſciences;
the extent of the theories they include; their
application to all the objects of nature, and
all the wants of man; the lines of cammu-
_ nication eſtabliſhed between them; the great
number of thoſe who cultivate them ; and,
laſtly, the multiplication of printing preſſes,
are ſufficient to aſſure us, that none of them
will hereafter deſcend below the point to
which it has been carried. We may ſhew
that the principles of philoſophy, the maxims
of liberty, the knowledge of the true rights
of man, and his real intereſt, are ſpread over
too many nations, and in each of thoſe na-
tions direct the opinions of too great a num-
ber of enlightened men, for them ever to fall
again into oblivion.
What fear can be entertained when we
find that the two languages the moſt univer-
ſally extended, are, likewiſe, the languages
of two people who poſſeſs the moſt extend-
ed liberty; who have beſt known its prin-
ciples. So that no confederacy of tyrants,
| nor
(309)
nor any poſſible combination of policy, can
prevent the rights of reaſon, as well as thoſe
of liberty, from being my defended in
both languages.
But if it be true, as every proſper aſſures |
us, that the human race ſhall not again re-
lapſe into its ancient barbarity; if every
thing ought to aſſure us againſt that puſil-
lanimous and corrupt ſyſtem which condemns
man to eternal oſcillations between truth and
falſhood, liberty and ſervitude, we muſt, at
the ſame time, perceive that the light of
information is ſpread over a ſmall part only
of our globe; and the number of thoſe who
poſſeſs real inſtruction, ſeems to vaniſh in
the compariſon with the maſs of men con-
ſigned over to ignorance and prejudice. We
behold vaſt countries groaning under flavery,
and preſenting nations, in one place, de-
graded by the vices of civilization, ſo corrupt
as to impede the progreſs of man; and in
others, till vegetating in the infancy of its
early age, We perceive that the exertions
of theſe laſt ages have done much for the
progreſs of the human mind, bur little for
the e of the human ſpecies; much
* 3 3
„
for the glory of man, ſamewhat for his li-
berty, but ſcarcely any thing yet for his hap»
pineſs. In a few directions, our eyes are
ſtruck with a dazzling light; but thick dark-
neſs ſtill covers an immenſe horizon. The
mind of the philoſopher repoſes with ſatis-
faction upon a ſmall number of objects, but
the ſpectacle of the ſtupidity, the ſlavery,
the extravagance, and the barbarity of man,
afflicts him {till more ſtrongly. The friend
of humanity cannot receive unmixed pleaſure
but by abandoning himſelf to the m—
hope of the future.
Such are the objects which ought to enter
into an hiſtorical ſketch of the progreſs of
the human mind. We may endeavour, while
we hold them forward, to ſhew more eſpe-
cially the influence of this progreſs upon the
opinions and the welfare of the general maſs
of different nations, at the different epochas
of their political exiſtence; to ſhew what
truths they have known, what errors have
been deſtroyed, what virtuous habits con-
tracted, what new developement of their fa-
culties has eſtabliſhed a happier proportion
between their Powers and their wants: And,
ade
9
under an oppoſite point of view, what may
be the prejudices to which they have been
enſlaved; what religious or political ſuperſti-
tions have been introduced ; by what vices,
of ignorance or deſpotiſm, they have been
corrupted ; and to what miferies, violence or
their own degradation have ſubjected them.
_ Hitherto, political hiſtory, as well as that
of philoſophy and the ſciences, has been
merely the hiſtory of a few men, That
which forms in truth the human fpecies, the
maſs of families, which ſubſiſt almoſt en-
tirely upon their labour, has been forgotten;
and even among that claſs of men who, de-
voted to public profeſſions, act not for them-
ſelves but for ſociety ; whoſe occupation it is
to inſtruct, to govern, to defend, and to
comfort other men, the chiefs anly have fixed
the attention of hiſtorians,
It is enough for the hiſtory of individuals
that facts be collected, but the hiſtory of a
maſs of men can be founded only on obſer-
vations; and, in order to ſelect them, and to
ſeize the eſſential traits, it is requiſite- the
hiſtorian ſhould poſſeſs conſiderable informa»
tion, and no leſs of philoſophy, to make a
proper ule of n | ta
MS > A
—
— —ũ—à—ä— — — — ores
— 3 —ũ —äP
4
(
Again, theſe obſervations relate to common
things, which ſtrike the eyes of all, and
which every one is capable himſelf of know-
ing when he thinks proper to attend to them.
Hence the greater part have been collected
by travellers and foreigners, becauſe things
very trivial in the place where they exiſt, have
become an object of curioſity to ſtrangers.
Now it unfortunately happens, that theſe
travellers are almoſt always inaccurate ob-
ſervers; they ſee objects with too much
rapidity, through the medium of the preju-
dices of their own country, and not unfre-
quently by the eyes of the men of the coun-
try they run through : their conferences are
held with ſuch men as accident has connected
them with; and the anſwer is, in almoſt
every caſe, dictated by intereſt, party ſpirit,
national pride, or ill-humour,
It is not alone, therefore, to the baſeneſs
of hiſtorians, as has been juſtly urged againſt
thoſe of monarchies, that we are to attribute
the want of monuments from which we
may trace this moſt 5 part of the
hiſtory of men.
The defect cannot be fupplied but very
py by a knowledge of the laws, the
3 a practical
(
practical principles of government and publie
economy, or by that of religion and general
prejudices, |
In fact, the law as written, and the law
as executed; the principles of thoſe who go- |
vern, and the manner in which their action
is modified by the genius of thoſe who are
governed; the inſtitution ſuch as it has flow-
ed from the men who formed it, and ſuch as
it becomes when realized by practice; the
religion of books, and that of the people;
the apparent univerſality of prejudice, and
the real reception which it obtains, may differ
to ſuch a degree, that the effects ſhall abſo-
lutely ceaſe to correſpond to theſe public and
known cauſes.
To this part of the hiſtory of the kin
ſpecies, which is the moſt obſcure, the moſt
neglected, and for which facts offer us fo
few materials, it is that we ſhould more par-
_ ticularly attend in this outline; and whether
an account be rendered of a new diſcovery,
an important theory, a new ſyſtem of laws,
or a political revolution, the problem to be
determined will conſiſt in aſcertaining what
effects ought to have ariſen. from the will of
| | 1
1
the moſt numerous portion of each ſociety.
This is the true object of philoſophy; becauſe
all the intermediate effects of theſe ſame
cauſes can be conſidered only as means of
acting, at leaſt upon this portion, which
truly conſtitutes the maſs of the human race.
It is by arriving at this laſt link of the
chain, that the obſervation of paſt events, as
well as the knowledge acquired by medita-
tion, become truly uſeful, It is by arriving
at this term, that men learn to appreciate
their real titles to reputation, or to enjoy,
with a well-grounded pleaſure, the progreſs of
their reaſon. Hence, alone, it is, that they
can judge of the true improvement of the
human ſpecies,
The notion of referring every thing to this
latter point, is dictated by juſtice and by reaſon ;
but it may be ſuppoſed: to be without founda-
tion. The ſuppoſition, nevertheleſs, is not
true; and it will be enough if we prove it in
—
this lice by two ſtriking examples.
The poſſeſſion of the moſt common objects
of conſumption, however abundantly they
may now ſatisfy the wants of man; of thoſe
objects which the m— produces in conſe.
; „
tan]
quence of human effort, is due to the con-
tinued exertions of induſtry, aſſiſted by the
light of the ſciences; and thence it follows,
from hiſtory, that this poſſeſſion attaches it-
ſelf to the gain of the battle of Salamis,
without which the darkneſs of oriental def-
potiſm threatened to cover the whole of the |
earth. And, again, the accurate obſervation of
the longitude, which preſerves navigators from
ſhipwreck, is indebted to a theory which, by
a chain of truths, goes as far back as to diſ-
AG made in the ſchool of Plato, though
buried for twenty centuries in perfect -iny-
tility,
TENTH
6376)
TENTH EPOCH.
1 8 |
Future rogreſe of Mankind.
Ir man can predict, almoſt with certainty,
thoſe appearances of which he underſtands the
laws; if, even when the laws are unknown
to him, experience of the paſt enables him to
foreſee, with conſiderable probability, future
appearances; why ſhould we ſuppoſe it a chi-
merical undertaking to delineate, with ſome
degree of truth, the picture of the future
deſtiny of mankind from the reſults of its
hiſtory? The only foundation of faith in the
natural ſciences is the principle, that the gene-
ral laws, known or unknown, which regulate
the phenomena of the univerſe, are regular
and conſtant; and why ſhould this principle,
applicable to the other operations of nature,
be leſs true when applied to the developement
of the intellectual and moral faculties of man?
In ſhort, as opinions formed from experience,
relative to the ſame claſs of objects, are the
only rule by which men of ſoundeſt under-
a | ſtanding
1
ſtanding are governed in their conduct, why
ſhould the philoſopher be proſcribed from
ſupporting his conjectures upon a ſimilar baſis,
provided he attribute to them no greater
certainty than the number, the "conſiſtency,
and the accuracy of actual obſervations ſhall
authoriſe ?
Our hopes, as to the future condition of
the human ſpecies, may be reduced to three
points: the deſtruction of inequality between
different nations ; the progreſs of equality in
one and the ſame nation; and laſtly, the
real improvement of man.
Will not every nation one day arrive at the
ſtate of civilization attained by thoſe people
who are moſt enlightened, moſt free, moſt
exempt from prejudices, as the French, for
inſtance, and the Anglo-Americans ? Will not
the ſlavery of countries ſubjected to kings, the
barbarity of African tribes, and the ignorance
of ſavages gradually vaniſh ? Is there upon the
face of the globe a ſingle ſpot the inhabitants
of which are condemned by nature never to
enjoy liberty, never to exerciſe their reaſon ?
Does the difference of knowledge, of
means, and of wealth, obſervable hitherto in
( 318 )
all civilized nations, between the claſſes into
which the people conſtituting thoſe nations are
divided; does that inequality, which the earlieſt
progreſs of ſociety has augmented, or, to
{peak more properly, produced, belong to ci-
vilization itſelf, or to the imperfections of the
focial order? Muſt it not continually weaken,
in order to give place to that actual equality,
the chief end of the ſocial art, which, diminiſh-
ing even the effects of the natural difference
of the faculties, leaves no other inequality =
ſubſiſting but what is uſeful to the intereſt of
all, becauſe it will favour civilization, inſtruc-
tion, and induſtry, without drawing after it
either dependence, humiliation or poverty ?
In a word, will not men be continually verging
towards that ſtate, in which all will poſſeſs
the requiſite knowledge for conducting them-
ſelves in the common affairs of life by their
own reaſon, and of maintaining that reaſon
uncontaminated by prejudices ; in which they
will underftand their rights, and exerciſe them
according to their opinion and their con-
ſcience; in which all will be able, by the
developement of their faculties, to procure
the certain means of providing for their wants;
| laſtly,
* -
( 319 )
laſtly, in which folly and wretchedneſs
will be accidents, happening only now and
then, and not the habitual lot of a confider-
able portion of ſociety ? |
In fine, may it not be expected that the
human race will be meliorated by new diſco-
veries in the ſciences and the arts, and, as an
unavoidable conſequence, in the means of
individual and general profperity ; by farther
progreſs in the principles of conduct, and in
moral practice; and laftly, by the real im-
provement of our faculties, moral, intellectual
and phyſical, which may be the reſult either
of the improvement of the inſtruments which
increaſe the power and direct the exerciſe of
thoſe faculties, or of the improvement of our
natural organization itſelf?
In examiningthe three queſtions we have
enumerated, we ſhall find the ſtrongeſt rea-
ſons to believe, from paſt experienee, from
obſervation of the progreſs which the ſciences
and civilization havę hitherto made, and from
the analyſis of the march of the human un-
derſtanding, and the developement of its fa»
culties, that nature has fixed no limits to our |
| hopes 5
If
—̃—ꝛ—ỹ— 2 —„—- — —
( 320 )
If we take a ſurvey of the exiſting ſtate of
the globe, we ſhall perceive, in the firſt place,
that in Europe the principles of the French
- conſtitution are thoſe of every enlightened
mind. We ſhall perceive that they are too
widely difſeminated, and too openly profeſſed,
for the efforts of tyrants and prieſts to pre-
vent them from penetrating by degrees into
the miſerable cottages of their ſlaves, where
they will ſoon revive thoſe embers of
good ſenſe, and rouſe that filent indignation
Which the habit of ſuffering and terror have
failed totally to extinguiſh in the minds of the
oppreſſed. |
If we next look at the different nations, we
ſhall obſerve in each, particular obſtacles op-
poſing, or certain diſpoſitions favouring this
revolution. We ſhall diſtinguiſh ſome in
which it will be effected, perhaps ſlowly, by
the wiſdom of the reſpective governments;
and others in which, rendered violent by re-
ſiſtance, the governments themſelves will
' neceſſarily be involved in its terrible and
rapid motions.
Can it Be ſuppoſed that either the wiſdom
or the ſenſeleſs feuds of European nations,
co- operating
632
co-operating with the ſlow but certain effects
of the progreſs of their colonies, will nat
ſhortly produce the independence of the en-
tire new world ; and that then, European po-
pulation, lending its aid, will fail to civilize
or cauſe to diſappear, even without conqueſt,
thoſe ſavage nations ſtill occupying there im-
menſe tracts of country?
Run through the hiſtory of our —
add eſtabliſhments in Africa or in Aſia, and
you will ſee our monopolies, our treachery,
our ſanguinary contempt for men of a dif-
ferent complexion or a different creed, and
the proſelyting fury or the intrigues of our
prieſts, deſtroying that ſentiment of reſpect
and benevolence which the ſuperiority of our
information and the advantages of our com-
merce had at firſt obtained. |
But the period is doubtleſs approaching,
when, no longer exhibiting to the view of
theſe people corruptors only or tyrants, we
ſhall become to them inſtruments of benefit,
and the generous champions of their wn;
tion from bondage. |
The cultivation of the ſugar-cane, which
is now eſtabliſhing itſelf in Africa, will put
* an
[
|
6
an end to the ſhameful robbery by which, for
two centuries, that country has been depopu-
lated and depraved.
Already, in Great Britain, ſome friends of
humanity have ſet the example; and if its
Machiavelian government, forced to reſpect
public reaſon, has not dared to oppoſe this
meaſure, what may we not expect from the
ſame ſpirit, when, after the reform of an abject
and venal conſtitution, it ſhall become worthy
of a humane and generous people ? Wilt not
France be eager to imitate enterpriſes which
the philanthropy and the true intereſt of Eu-
rope will equally have dictated? Spices are al-
ready introduced into the French iflands, Gui-
ana, and ſome Engliſh ſettlements ; and we
ſhall ſoon witneſs the fall of that monopoly
which the Dutch have ſupported by ſuch a
_ complication of perfidy, of oppreſſion, and of
_ crimes. The people of Europe will learn in
time that excluſive and chartered companies
are but a tax upon the reſpective nation,
granted for the purpoſe of placing a new in-
ſtrument in the hands of its government for
Io maintenance of tyranny.
1 will the inhabitants of the myers
quarter
( 323 )
quarter of the world, ſatisfied with an unre-
ſtricted commerce, too enlightened as to their
own rights to ſport with the rights of others,
reſpe& that independence which they have
hitherto violated with ſuch audacity. Then will
their eſtabliſhments, inſtead of being filled bythe
creatures of power, who, availing themſelves
of a place or a privilege, haſten, by rapine
and perfidy, to amaſs wealth, in order to
purchaſe, on their return, honours and titles,
be peopled with induſtrious men, ſeeking in
thoſe happy climates that eaſe and comfort
which in their native country eluded their pur-
ſuit. There will they be retained by liberty,
ambition having loſt its allurements ; and thoſe
ſettlements of robbers will then become colo-
nies of citizens, by whom will be planted in
Africa and Aſia the principles and example
of the freedom, reaſon, and illumination of
Europe. To thoſe monks alſo, who inculcate
on the natives of the countries in queſtion
the moſt ſhameful ſuperſtitions only, and who
excite diſguſt by menacing them with a new
tyranny, will ſucceed men of integrity and be-
nevolence, anxious to ſpread among theſe
people truths uſeful to their happineſs, and
Xa Mi
(204 }
to enlighten them upon their intereſts as well
as their rights: for the love of truth is alſo a
paſſion; and when it ſhall have at home no
groſs prejudices to combat, no degrading er-
rors to diſfipate, it will naturally extend its
regards, and convey its efforts to remote and
foreign climes. |
Theſe immenſe countries will afford am-
ple ſcope for the gratification of this paſſion.
In one place will be found a numerous peo-
ple, who, to arrive at civilization, appear
only to wait till we ſhall furniſh them with
the means ; and who, treated as brothers by
1 would inſtantly become their
friends and diſciples. In another will be ſeen
nations crouching under the yoke of ſacred
deſpots or ſtupid conquerors, and who, for ſo
many ages, have looked for ſome friendly
hand to deliver them: while a third will ex-
hibit either tribes nearly ſavage, excluded
from the benefits of ſuperior civilization by
the ſeverity of their climate, which deters
thoſe who might otherwiſe be diſpoſed to com-
municate theſe benefits from making the at-
tempt ; or elle conquering hordes, knowing
no law but force, no trade but robbery. The
advances
( 325 )
advances of theſe two laſt claſſes will be move.
flow, and accompanied with more frequent
ſtorms; it may even happen that, reduced in
numbers in proportion as they ſee themſelves
repelled by civilized nations, they will in the
end wholly diſappear, or their ſcanty remains
become blended with their neighbours.
We might ſhew that theſe events will be
the inevitable conſequence not only of the
progreſs of Europe, but of that freedom
which the republic of France, as well as of
America, have it in their power, and feel it
to be their intereſt, to reſtore to the com-
merce of Africa and Aſia; and that they muſt
alſo neceſſarily reſult alike, whether from the
new policy of European nations, or their ob-
ſtinate adherence to mercantile prejudices.
A ſingle combination, a new invaſion of
Aſia by the Tartars, might be ſufficient to
fruſtrate this revolution; but it maybe thewn
that ſuch combination is henceforth impoſſi-
ble to be effected. Meanwhile every thing
ſeems to be preparing the ſpeedy downtfal of
the religions of the Eaſt, which, partaking of
the abjectneſs of their miniſters, left almoſt
excluſively to the people, and, in the majo-
E . iy rity
ws
-
— — — ns. Rs
= r · P. Oren re w ˙ —— Z— — —
- —— 2 *
(- 366 }-
rity of countries, conſidered by powerful men
as political inſtitutions only, no longer threaten
to retain human reaſon in a ſtate of hopeleſs
bondage, and in the eternal ſhackles of in-
fancy.
The march of theſe people will be leſs
low and more ſure than ours has been, be-
cauſe they will derive from us that light
which we have been obliged to diſcover, and
becauſe for them to acquire the {imple truths
and infallible methods which we have ob-
tained after long wandering in the mazes of
error, it will be ſufficient to ſeize upon their
developements and proofs in our diſcourſes
and publications. If the progreſs of the Greeks
was loſt upon other nations, it was for want of
a communication between the people; and
to the tyrannical domination of the Romans
muſt the whole blame be aſcribed, But,
when mutual wants ſhall have drawn cloſer
the intercourſe and ties of all mankind ; when
the moſt powerful nations ſhall have eſta-
bliſhed into political principles equality be-
tween ſocieties as between individuals, and
reſpect for the independence of feeble ſtates,
as well as compaſſion for ignorance and:
wretched-
63
wretchedneſs ; when to the maxims which
bear heavily upon the ſpring of the human fa-
culties, thoſe ſhall ſucceed which favour their
action and energy, will there {till be reaſon to
fear that the globe will contain ſpaces inac-
ceſſible to knowledge, or that the pride of
deſpotiſm will be able to oppoſe barriers to
truth that will long be infurmountable ?
Then will arrive the moment in which the
ſun will obſerve in its courſe free nations
only, acknowledging no other maſter than
their reaſon ; in which tyrants and ſlaves,
Prieſts and their ſtupid or hypocritical inſtru-
ments, will no longer exiſt but in hiſtory and
upon the ſtage; in which our only concern
will be to lament their paſt victims and dupes,
and, by the recollection of their horrid enor-
mities, to exerciſe a vigilant circumſpection,
that we may be able inſtantly to recogniſe and
effectually to ſtifle by the force of reaſon, the
ſeeds of ſuperſtition and tyranny, ſhould they
ever preſume again to make their appearance
upon the earth. ry
In tracing the hiſtory of ſocieties we have
had occaſion to remark, that there frequently
_ exiſts a conſiderable diſtinction between the
Y 4 rights
( 328 ) ;
rights which the law acknowledges in the citi-
zens of a ſtate, and thoſe which they really
enjoy; between the equality eſtabliſhed by
political inſtitutions, and that which takes
place between the individual members: and
that to this diſproportion was chiefly owing
the deſtruction of liberty in the ancient repub-
lics, the ſtorms which they had to encounter,
and the weakneſs that ſurrendered them into
the power of foreign tyrants.
Three principal cauſes may be aſſigned tor .
theſe diſtinctions: inequality of wealth, ine-
quality of condition between him whoſe re-
ſources of ſubſiſtance are ſecured to himſelf
and deſcendable to his family, and him whoſe
reſources are annihilated with the termination
of his life, or rather of that part of his life in
which he 1s capable of labour ; ; and laſtly, ir in-
equality of inſtruction.
It will therefore behove us to ſhew, that
theſe three kinds of real inequality muſt con-
tinually diminiſh; but without becoming ab-
ſolutely extinct, bs they haye natural and
neceſſary cauſes, which it would be abſurd as
well as dangerous to think of deſtroying; nor
een Ws. Attempt even to deſtroy entirely their
| | effects,
(
effects, without opening at the ſame time more
fruitful ſources of inequality, and giving to
the rights of man a more direct and more fa-
tal blow. |
It is eaſy to prove that fortunes naturally
tend to equality, and that their extreme diſpro-
portion either could not exiſt, or would quickly
ceaſe, if poſitive law had not introduced facti-
tious means of amaſſing and perpetuating them;
if an entire freedom of commerce and induſtry
were brought forward to ſuperſede the advan-
tages which prohibitory laws and fiſcal rights
. neceſſarily give to the rich over the poor; if
duties upon every ſort of transfer and con-
vention, if prohibitions to certain kinds, and
the tedious and expenſive formalities preſcribed
to other kinds; if the uncertainty and expence
attending their execution had not palſied the
efforts of the poor, and ſwallowed up their
little accumulations ; if political inſtitutions
had not laid certain prolific ſources of opu-
lence open to a few, and ſhut them againſt
the many; if avarice, and the other prej u-
dices incident to an advanced age, did not
preſide over marriages; in fine, if the ſimpli-
city
( 330
city of our manners and the wiſdom of our
inſtitutions were calculated to prevent riches
from operating as the means of gratifying va-
nity or ambition, at the ſame time that an
ill-judged auſterity, by forbidding us to ren-
der them a means of coſtly pleaſures, ſhould
not force us to preſerve the wealth that had
once been accumulated.
Let us compare, in the enlightened nations
of Europe, the actual population with the ex-
tent of territory ; let us obſerve, amidſt the
ſpectacle of their culture and their induſtry,
the way in which labour and the means of
ſubſiſtance are diſtributed, and we ſhall ſee
that it will be impoſſible to maintain theſe
means in the ſame extent, and of conſequence
to maintain the fame maſs of population, if
any conſiderable number of individuals ceaſe
to have, as now, nothing but their induſtry,
and the pittance neceffary to ſet it at work, or
to render its profit equal to the ſupplying their
own wants and thoſe of their family. But
neither this induſtry, nor the ſcanty referve
we have mentioned, can be perpetuated, ex-
_ cept ſo long as the life and health of each head
of a family is perpetuated. Their little for-
tune
Wo
tune therefore is at beſt an annuity, but in
reality with features of precariouſneſs that an
annuity wants : and from hence reſults a moſt
important difference between this claſs of ſo-
ciety and the claſs of men whoſe reſources
conſiſt either of a landed income, or the in-
tereſt of a capital, which depends little upon
perſonal induſtry, and is therefore not ſub-
ject to ſimilar riſks.
There exiſts then a neceſſary cauſe of in-
equality, of dependence, and even of penury,
which menaces without ceaſing the moſt nu-
merous and active claſs of our ſocieties.
This inequality, however, may be in great
meaſure deſtroyed, by ſetting chance againſt
chance, in ſecuring to him who attains old
age a ſupport, ariſing from his ſavings, but
augmented by thoſe of other perſons, who,
making a ſimilar addition to a common ſtock,
may happen to die before they ſhall have oc-
caſion to recur to it; in procuring, by a like
regulation, an equal reſource for women who
may loſe their huſbands, or children who
may loſe their father ; laſtly, in preparing for
thoſe youths, who arrive at an age to be ca-
pable of working for . and of giving
birth
( 398 )
birth to a new family, the benefit of a capi-
tal ſufficient to employ their induſtry, and
increaſed at the expence of thoſe whom pre-
mature death may cut off before they arrive
at that period. To the application of mathe-
matics to the probabilities of life and the in-
tereſt of money, are we indebted for the hint
of theſe means, already employed with ſome
degree of ſucceſs, though they have not been
carried to ſuch extent, or employed in ſuch
variety of forms, as would render them truly
beneficial, not merely to a few families, but
to the whole maſs of ſociety, which would
thereby be relieved from that periodical ruin
obſervable in a number of families, the ever-
flowing ſource of corruption and depravity.
Theſe eſtabliſhments, which may be formed
in the name of the ſocial power, and become
one of its greateſt benefits, might alſo be the
refult of individual aſſociations, which may be
inſtituted without danger, when the principles
by which the eftabliſhments ought to be or-
ganiſed, ſhall have become more popular, and
the errors, by which a great number of ſuch
alſociations have been deſtroyed, thall ceaſe to
be an object of apprehenſion. |
We
6
We may enumerate other means of ſecuring
the equality in queſtion, either by preventing
credit from continuing to be a privilege ex-
cluſively attached to large fortunes, without
at the ſame time placing it upon a leſs ſolid
foundation; or by rendering the progreſs of
induſtry and the activity of commerce more
independent of the exiſtence of great capi-
taliſts :* and for thele reſources alſo we ſhall be
_ indebted to the ſcience of calculation.
The equality of inſtruction we can hope to
attain, and with which we ought to be-
ſatisfied, is that which excludes every ſpecies
of dependence, whether forced or voluntary.
We may exhibit, in the actual ſtate of human
knowledge, the eaſy means by which this end
may be attained even for thoſe who can devote
to ſtudy but a few years of infancy, and, in
ſubſequent life, only ſome occaſional hours of
leiſure, We might ſhew, that by a happy
choice of the ſubjects to be taught, and of the
mode of inculcating them, the entire maſs of
a people may be inſtructed in every thing ne-
ceſſary for the purpoſes of domeſtic economy;
for the tranſaction of their affairs; for the
free developement of their induſtry and their
| flaculties;
"1. 08 1
faculties ; for the knowledge, exerciſe and pro-
tection of their rights; for a ſenſe of their
duties, and the power of diſcharging them ;
for the capacity of judging both their own
actions, and the actions of others, by their own
underſtanding ; for the acquiſition of all the
delicate or dignified ſentiments that are an
honour to humanity ; for freeing themſelves
from a blind confidence in thoſe to whom they
may entruſt the care of their intereſts, and the
ſecurity of their rights ; for chuſing and watch-
ing over them, ſo as no longer to be the dupes
of thoſe popular errors that torment and
way-lay the life of man with ſuperſtitious
fears and chimerical hopes; for defending
themſelves againſt prejudices by the ſole
energy of reaſon ; in fine, for eſcaping from
the deluſions of impoſture, which would
| fpread ſnares for their fortune, their health,
their freedom of opinion and of conſcience,
under the pretext of enriching, of healing, and
of ſaving them. |
The inhabitants of the Game country hin |
then no longer diſtinguiſhed among themſelves
by the alternate uſe of a refined or a vulgar lan-
guage ; ; being equally governed by their own =
under-
. 6
underſtandings; being no more confined to
the mechanical knowledge of the proceſſes of
the arts, and the mere routine of a profeſſion;
no more dependent in the moſt trifling affairs,
and for the ſlighteſt information, upon men
of ſkill, who, by a neceſſary aſcendancy,
controul and govern, a real equality muſt be
the reſult; ſince the difference of talents and
information can no longer place a barrier be-
tween men whoſe ſentiments, ideas, and
phraſeology are capable of being mutually
underſtood, of whom the one part may de-
ſire to be inſtructed, but cannot need to be
guided by the other; of whom the one part
may delegate to the other the office of a ra-
tional government, but cannot be forced to
regard them with blind and unlimited confi-
dence. |
Then it is that this ſuperiority will become
an advantage even for thoſe who do not par-
take of it, ſince it will exiſt not as their
enemy, but as their friend. The natural dif-
ference of faculties between men whoſe un-
derſtandings have not been cultivated, pro-
duces, even among ſavages, empirics and
dupes, the one ſkilled in deluſion, the others
| 2 5 eaſy
I
eaſy to be deceived : the ſame difference will
doubtleſs exiſt among a people where inſtruc-
tion ſhall be truly general ; but it will be here
between men of exalted underſtandings and
men of ſound minds, who can admire the
radiance of knowledge, without ſuffering
| themfelves to be dazzled by it; between ta-
Tents and genius on the one Way" and on the
other the good ſenſe that knows how to ap-
preciate and enjoy them: and ſhould this
difference be even greater in the latter caſe,
comparing the force and extent of the facul-
ties only, ſtill would the effects of it not be the
leſs imperceptible in the relations of men with
each other, in whatever is intereſting to their
independence or their happineſs.
The different cauſes of equality we have
_ enumerated do not act diſtinctly and apart;
they unite, they incorporate, they ſuppart
one another; and from their*combined influ- |
ence reſults an action proportionably forcible,
ſure, and conſtant.” If inſtruction become
more equal, induſtry thence acquires greater
equality, and from induſtry the effect is com-
municated to fortunes; and equality of for-
tunes u ncceſſarily contributes to that of inſtruc-
tion,
1
tion, while equality of nations, like that eſta-
bliſhed between individuals, have alſo a mu-
tual operation upon each other.
In fine, inſtruction, properly directed, cors
rects the natural inequality of the faculties, in-
ſtead of ſtrengthening it, in like manner as
good laws remedy the natural inequality of
the means of ſubſiſtance; or as, in ſocieties
whoſe inſtitutions ſhall have effected this equa-
lity, liberty, though ſubjected to. a regular
government, will be more extenſive, more
complete, than in the independence of ſavage
life. Then has the ſocial art accompliſhed its
end, that of ſecuring and extending for all
the enjoyment of the common rights which
_ impartial nature has bequeathed to all.
The advantages that muſt reſult from the
ſtate of improvement, of which I have proved'
We may almoſt entertain the certain hope, can
have no limit but the abſolute perfection of the
human ſpecies, ſince, in proportion as different
kinds of equality ſhall be eſtabliſhed as to the
various means of providing for our wants, as
to a more univerſal inſtruction, and a more
entire liberty, the more real will be this equa-
lity, and the nearer will it approach towards
= "0. embracing
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( 338 )
embracing every thing truly important to the
happineſs of mankind.
It is then by examining the progieſſion and
the laws of this perfection, that we can alone
arrive at the knowledge of the extent or boun-
_ dary of our hopes.
It has never yet been fuppoſed, that all 5
facts of nature, and all the means of acquiring
preciſion in the computation and analyſis of
thoſe facts, and all the connections of objects
with each other, and all the poſſible combi-
nations of ideas, can be exhauſted by the hu-
man mind. The mere relations of magnitude,
the combinations, quantity and extent of this
idea alone, form already a ſyſtem too im-
menſe for the mind of man ever to graſp the
vrhole of it; a portion, more vaſt than that
which he may have penetrated, will always
remain unknown to him. It has, however,
been imagined, that, as man can know a part
only of the objects which the nature of his
intelligence permits him to inveſtigate, he
muſt at length reach the point at which, the
number and complication of thoſe he already
| knows having abſorbed all his powers, farther
_ will become abſolutely impoſſible.
* 5 But,
( 339 )
But, in proportion as facts are multiplied,
man learns to elaſs them, and reduce them
to more general facts, at the ſame time that
the inſtruments and methods for obſerving
them, and regiſtering them with exactneſs,
acquire a new preciſion: in proportion as
relations more multifarious between a greater
number of objects are diſcovered, man con-
tinues to reduce them to relations of a wider
denomination, to expreſs them with greater
ſimplicity, and to preſent them in a way
which may enable a given ſtrength of mind,
with a given quantity of attention, to take in
a greater number than before: in propor-
tion as the underſtanding embraces more com-
plicated combinations, a ſimple mode of an-
nouncing theſe combinations renders them
more eaſy to be treated. Hence it follows
that truths,” the diſcovery of which was ac-
companied with the moſt laborious efforts,
and which at firſt could not be comprehended
but by men of the ſevereſt attention, will after
a time be unfolded and proved in methods
that are not abo the efforts of an ordinary
capacity. - Api thus ſhould the methods that
led to new combinations be exhauſted, ſhould
Z 2 : their
6340
their applications to queſtions, ſtill unreſolved,
demand exertions greater than the time or the
powers of the learned can beſtow, more ge-
neral methods, means more ſimple would
ſoon come to their aid, and open a farther
career to genius. The energy, the real ex-
tent of the human intellect may remain the
ſame; but the inſtruments which it can em-
ploy will be multiplied and improved; but
the language which fixes and determines the
ideas will acquire more preciſion and com-
paſs; and it will not be here, as in the ſcience
of mechanics, where, to increaſe the force,
we muſt diminiſh the velocity ; on the con-
trary the methods by which genius will ar-
rive at the diſcovery of new truths, augment
at once both the force and the OP of its
operations.
In a word, theſe changes being A
the neceſſary conſequences of additional pro-
greſs in the knowledge of truths of detail,
and the cauſe which produces a demand for
new reſources, producing at the ſame. time
the means of ſupplying them, it follows that
the actual maſs of truths appertaining to the
ſciences of obſervation, calculation and ex-
= periment
2
(34)
periment, may be perpetually augmented, and
that without ſuppoſing the faculties of man
to poſſeſs a force and activity, and a ſcope of
action greater than before.
By applying theſe general reflections to the
different ſciences, we might exhibit, reſpect-
ing each, examples of this progreſſive im-
provement, which would remove all poſſibi-
lity of doubt as to the certainty of the further
improvement that may be expected. We
might indicate particularly in thoſe which pre-
judice conſiders as neareſt to being exhauſted,
the marks of an almoſt certain and early ad-
vance. We might illuſtrate the extent, the
preciſion, the unity which muſt be added to
the ſyſtem comprehending all human knows-
ledge, by a more general and philoſophical
application of the ſcience of calculation to the
individual branches of which that ſyſtem is
compoſed. We might ſhew how favourable
to our hopes a more univerſal inſtruction
would prove, by which a greater number
of individuals would acquire the elementary
knowledge that might inſpire them with a
taſte for a particular kind of ſtudy ; and how |
much theſe hopes would be further heightened
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if this application to ſtudy were to be ren-
dered ſtill more extenſive by a more general
eaſe of circumſtances, At preſent, in the
moſt enlightened countries, ſcarcely do one
in fifty of thoſe whom nature has bleſſed
with talents receive the neceſſary inſtruction
for the developement of them: how different
would be the proportion in the caſe we are
ſuppoſing ? and, of conſequence, how dif-
ferent the number of men deſtined to extend
the horizon of the ſciences?
We might ſhew how much this equality
of inſtruction, joined to the national equality
we have ſuppoſed to take place, would ac-
celerate thoſe ſciences, the advancement of
which depends upon obſervations repeated in
a greater number of inſtances, and extending
over a larger portion of territory; how much
benefit would be derived therefrom to mine-
ralogy, botany, zoology, aad' the doctrine
of meteors; in ſhort, how infinite the dif-
ference hetween the feeble means hitherto
enjoyed by theſe ſciences, and which yet
have led to uſeful and important truths, and
the magnitude of thoſe which man would
then hays it in his power to employ.
bo .
( 343 )
'Laſtly, | we might prove that, from the
advantage of being cultivated by a greater
number of perſons, even the progreſs of
| thoſe ſciences, in which diſcoveries are the
fruit of individual meditation, would, alſo,
be conſiderably advanced by means of mi-
nuter improvements, not requiring the ſtrength
of intelle&, neceſſary for inventions, but that
preſent themſelves to the reflection of the
leaſt profound underſtandings. N
If we paſs to the progreſs of the arts,
thoſe arts particularly the theory of which
depends on theſe very ſame ſciences, we
ſhall find that it can have no inferior limits;
that their proceſſes are ſuſceptible of the ſame
improvement, the ſame ſimplifications, as the
ſcientific methods; that inſtruments, machines,
looms, will add every day to the capabilities
and ſkill of man will augment at once the
excellence and preciſion of his works, while
they will diminiſh the time and labour ne-
ceſſary for executing them; and that then
will diſappear the obſtacles that ſtill oppoſe
themſelves to the progreſs in queſtion, acci-
dents which will be foreſeen and prevented;
and, laſtiy, the unhealthineſs at preſent at-
2 4 tendant
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( 344 )
tendant upon certain operations habits and
_ climates.
A ſmaller portion of ground will then be
made to produce a portion of proviſions of
higher value or greater utility; a greater
quantity of enjoyment will be procured at a
| Imaller expence of conſumption; the ſame
manufactured or artificial commodity will be
produced at a ſmaller expence of raw mate-
rials, or will be ſtronger and more durable ;
every ſoil will be appropriated to productions
which will ſatisfy a greater number of wants
with the leaſt labour, and taken in the ſmall-
eſt quantities. Thus the means of health
: and frugality will be encreaſed, together with
the inſtruments in the arts of production, of
curing commodities and manufacturing their
produce, without demanding the ſacrifice of
one enjoyment by the conſumer.
Thus, not only the ſame ſpecies of ground
will nouriſh a greater number of individuals,
but each individual, with a. leſs quantity of
labour, will labour more ſucceſsfully, and-be
ſurrounded with greater conveniences,
It may, however, be demanded, whether,
amid this improvement in induſtry and
1 *
"tw.
b happineſs, where the wants and faculties of
men will continually become better propor-
tioned, each ſucceſſive generation poſſeſs more
various ſtores, and of conſequence in each
generation the number of individuals be
greatly increaſed; it may, I ſay, be demand-
ed, whether theſe principles of improvement
and increaſe may not, by their continual
operation, ultimately lead to degeneracy and
_ deſtruction? Whether the number of inha»
bitants in the univerſe at length exceeding
the means of exiſtence, there will not reſult
a continual decay of happineſs and popula-
tion, and a progreſs towards barbariſm, or at
leaſt a ſort of oſcillation between good and
evil? Will not this oſcillation, in ſocieties
arrived at this epoch, be a perennial ſource
of periodical calamity and diftreſs? In
a word, do not theſe conſiderations point
out the limit at which all farther improve-
ment will become impoſſible, and conſequent-
ly the perfectibility of man arrive at a period
which in the immenſity of ages it may attain,
but which it can never paſs? L TN
There is, doubtleſs, no individual that does
not perceive how very remote from us will
.."
: ( 346 )
be this period: but muſt it one day arrive?
It is equally impoſſible to pronounce on either
ſide reſpecting an event, which can only be
realized at an epoch when the human ſpecies
will neceſſarily have acquired a degree of
knowledge, of which our ſhort-ſighted un-
derſtandings can ſcarcely form an idea. And
who ſhall preſume to foretel to what perfec-
tion the art of converting the elements of
life into ſubſtances fitted for our uſe, may,
in a progreſſion of ages, be brought?
But ſuppoſing the affirmative, ſuppoſing it
actually to take place, there would reſult
from it nothing alarming, either to the hap-
pineſs of the human race, or its indefinite
perfectibility; if we conſider, that prior to
this period the progreſs of reaſon will have
walked hand in hand with that of the ſcl-
ences; that the abſurd prejudices of ſuper-
ſtition will have ceaſed to infuſe into morality
a harſhneſs that corrupts and degrades, in-
ſtead of purifying and exalting it ; that men
will then know, that the duties they may be
under relative to propagation will conſiſt not
in the queſtion of giving exiſtence to a greater
number of beings, | but bappineſ; will have for
their
| 347 )
their object, the general elne of the human
ſpecies; of the ſociety in which they live;
of the family to which they are attached;
and not the puerile idea of encumbering the
earth with uſeleſs and wretched mortals. Ac-
cordingly, there might then be a limit to the
poſſible maſs of proviſion, and of conſequence
to the greateſt poſſible population, without
that premature deſtruction, ſo contrary to
nature and to ſocial proſperity, of a portion
of the beings who may have received life,
being the reſult of thoſe limits.
As the diſcovery, or rather the accurate
ſolution of the firſt principles of metaphyſics,
morals, and politics, is ſtill recent; and as
it has been preceded by the knowledge of a
conſiderable number of . truths of detail, the /
_ prejudice, that they have thereby arrived at
their higheſt point of improvement, becomes
eaſily eſtabliſhed in the mind; and men ſup-
poſe that nothing remains to be done, be-
cauſe there are no longer any groſs errors
to deſtroy, or fundamental truths to eſtabliſh.
But it requires little penetration to per-
ceive how imperfect is ſtill the developement
of the 2 and moral faculties of
man;
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man; how much farther the ſphere of his
duties, including therein the influence of his
actions upon the welfare of his fellow-crea-
tures and of the ſociety to which he belongs,
may be extended by a more fixed, a more
profound and more accurate obſervation of
that influence; how many queſtions ſtill re-
main to be ſolved, how many ſocial ties to
be examined, before we can aſcertain the
_ preciſe catalogue of the individual rights of
man, as well as of the rights which the ſocial
ſtate confers upon the whole community with
regard to each member. Have we even aſ-
certained with any preciſion the limits of
theſe rights, whether as they exiſt between
different ſocieties, or in any ſingle ſociety,
over its members, in caſes of diviſion and
hoſtility ; or, in fine, the rights of individuals,
their ſpontaneous unions in the caſe of a pri-
mitive formation, or their ſeparations when
ſeparation becomes neceſſary? _
If we pafs on to the theory which ale
to direct the application of theſe principles,
and ſerve as the baſis of the ſocial art, do we
not ſee the neceſſity of acquiring an exactneſs
of which firſt truths, from their general na-
: | ZN ture,
#
( 3499 )
ture, are not ſuſceptible? Are we ſo far ad-
vanced as to conſider juſtice, or a proved and
acknowledged utility, and not vague, uncer-
tain, and arbitrary views of pretended politi-
cal advantages, as the foundation of all inſti-
tutions of law? Among the variety, almoſt
infinite, of poſſible ſyſtems, in which the
general principles of equality and natural
rights ſhould be reſpected, have we yet fixed
upon the preciſe rules of aſcertaining with
certainty thoſe which beſt ſecure the preſer-
vation of theſe rights, which afford the
freeſt ſcope for their exerciſe and eny oyment,
which promote molt effectually the peace and
welfare of individuals, and the ſtrength, re-
poſe, and proſperity of nations?
The application of the arithmetic of com-
binations and probabilities to theſe ſciences,
promiſes an improvement by ſo much the
more confiderable, as it is the only means of
giving to their reſults an almoſt mathematical
preciſion, and of appreciating their degree of
certainty or probability. The facts upon
which theſe reſults are built may, indeed,
without calculation, and by a glance only,
lead to ſome general truths; teach us whether
the
6
the effects produced by ſuch a cauſe have
been favourable or the reverſe: but if theſe
facts have neither been counted nor eſtimated;
if theſe effects have not been the object of
an exact admeaſurement, we cannot judge of
the quantity of good or evil they contain: if
the good or evil nearly balance each other,
nay, if the difference be not conſiderable, we
cannot pronounce with certainty to which
ſide the balance inclines. Without the ap-
plication of this arithmetic, it would be al-
moſt impoſſible to chuſe, with ſound reaſon,
between two comhinations propoſing to them-
ſelves the ſame end, when their advantages
are not diſtinguiſhable by any conſiderable
difference. In fine, without this alliance,
theſe ſciences would remain for ever groſs
and nartow, for want of inſtruments of ſuf-
ficient poliſh to lay hold of the ſubtility of
truth—for want of machines ſufficiently" ac-
curate. to ſound: the bottom of the well _—
it conceals its wealth. bas (>
- Meanwhile this 3 e
ing the happy efforts of certain geometers,
is ſtill, if I may ſo ſpeak, in its firſt rudi-
4 ments; and to the following generations muſt
(
it open a ſource of intelligence inexhauſtible
as calculation itſelf, or as the combinations,
analogies, and facts that may be brought
within the ſphere. of its operations.
i There is another ſpecies of progreſs, ap-
| pertaining to the ſciences in queſtion, equally
important; I mean, the improvement of
their language, at preſent ſo vague. and ſo ob-
ſeure. To this improvement muſt they owe
the advantage of becoming popular, even in
their ſirſt elements. Genius can triumph
over theſe inaccuracies, as over other obſta-
cles; it can recogniſe the features of truth, in
ſpite of the maſk. that conceals or disfigures
| them. But how i 18 the man who can devote
but a few leiſure moments to inſtruction to do
this? how is he to acquire and retain the
moſt ſimple truths, if they be diſguiſed by
an inaccurate language? ? The fewer ideas he
is able to collect and combine, the more re-
quiſite it is that they be juſt and preciſe.
He has no fund of truths ſtored up in his
mind, by which to guard himſelf againſt
error; nor 1s his underſtanding ſo ſtrength-
ened and refined by long exerciſe, that he
can catch thoſe feeble rays of light which
eſcape
”
"
.
.
— WY on — 3
—— — ? — — —
>
r *
- — — — 1
1 ww — —
(
eſcape under the Obſcure and ambigubus
dreſs of an imperfect and vicious POR
ology. ©
It will be impoſſible for men to become
enlightened upon the nature and develope-
ment of their moral ſentiments, upon the
principles of morality, upon the mo-
tives for conforming their conduct to thoſe
principles, and upon their intereſts, whether
relative to their individual or ſocial capacity,
without making, at the ſame time, an ad-
vancement in moral practice, not lefs real
than that of the ſcience itſelf, Is not a miſ-
taken intereft the moſt / frequent cauſe of ac-
tions contrary to the general welfare? Is
not the impetuoſity of our paſſions the con-
tinual reſult, either of habits to which we
addict "ourſelves from a falſe calculation, or
of ignorance of the means by which to re-
ſiſt their firſt impulſe, to divert, er,
and direct their action?
1s not the practice of reflecting upon our
conduct; of trying it by the touchſtone of
reaſon and conſcience; of exerciſing thoſe
humane fentiments which blend our happi-
neſs with that of others, the neceſſary conſe-
quence
6
quence of the well- directed ſtudy of morality,
and of a greater equality in the conditions of
the ſocial compact? Will not that conſci-
ouſneſs of his own dignity, appertaining to
the man who is free, that ſyſtem of educa-
tion built upon a more profound knowledge
of our moral conſtitution, render. common to
almoſt every man thoſe principles of a ſtrict
and unſullied juſtice, thoſe habitual propen-
ſities of an active and enlightened benevo-
lence, of a delicate and generous ſenſibility,
of which nature has planted the feeds in our
hearts, and which wait only for the genial
influence of knowledge and liberty to ex-
pand and to fructify? In like manner as
the mathematical and phyſical ſciences tend
to improve the arts that are employed for
our moſt ſimple wants, ſo is it not equally
in the neceſſary order of nature that the mo-
ral and political ſciences ſhould exerciſe a
ſimilar influence upon the motives that di-
rect our ſentiments and our actions?
What is the object of the improvement
of laws and public inſtitutions, conſequent
upon the progreſs of theſe ſciences, but to
reconcile, to approximate, to blend and unite
into one maſs the common intereſt of each
A a indi-
— os
,
— —— — — —
( 354 )
individual with the common intereſt of all ?
What is the end of the ſocial art, but to
_ deſtroy the oppoſition between theſe two ap-
parently jarring ſentiments? And will not
the conſtitution and laws of that country beſt
accord with the intentions of reaſon and na-
ture where the practice of virtue ſhall be leaſt
difficult, and the temptations to deviate from
her paths leaſt numerous and leaſt powerful.
What vicious habit can be mentioned, what
practice contrary to good faith, what crime
even, the origin and firſt cauſe of which
may not be traced in the legiſlation, inſtitu-
tions, and prejudices of the country in which
we obſerve ſuch habit, ſuch practice, or ſuch
crime to be committed ? |
In ſhort, does not the well-being, the proſ-
perity, reſulting from the progreſs that will
be made by the uſeful arts, in conſequence
of their being founded upon a ſound theory,
reſulting, alſo, from an improved legiſlation,
built upon the truths of the political ſcien-
ces, naturally diſpoſe men to humanity, to
benevolence, and to juſtice? Do not all the
obſervations, in fine, which we propoſed to -
develope in this work prove, that the moral
- goodneſs of man, the neceflary conſequence |
14 a ; e of
E
df his organization, is, like all his other fa-
culties, ſuſceptible of an indefinite improve-
ment? and that nature has connected, by a
chain which cannot be broken, truth, happi-
neſs, and virtue ?
Among thoſe cauſes of human improve-
ment that are of moſt importance to the ge-
neral welfare, muſt be included, the total an-
nihilation of the prejudices which have eftab-
liſhed between the ſexes an inequality of
rights, fatal even to the party which it fa-
vours. In vain might we ſearch for motives
by which to juſtify this principle, in differ-
ence of phyſical organization, of intellect, or
of moral ſenſibility. It had at firſt, no other
origin but abuſe of ſtrength, and all the at-
tempts which have ſince been made to- ſupport
it are idle ſophiſms. v5
And here we may obſerve, how much the
abolition of the uſages authorized by this
prejudice, and of the laws which it has
dictated, would tend to augment the hap-
pineſs of families; to render common the
fountain-head of
all the others; to favou inſtruction, and,
eſpecially, to make it truly general, either
becauſe it would be extended to both ſexes
A 2 with
virtues of domeſtic life, t
— ens EP FO hoot <a — on
„
with greater equality, or becauſe it cannot
become general, even to men, without the
concurrence of the mothers of families.
Would not this homage, ſo long in paying,
to the divinities of equity and good ſenſe,
put an end to a too fertile principle of in-
juſtice, cruelty, and crime, by ſuperſeding
the oppoſition hitherto maintained between
that natural propenſity, which is, of all
others, the moſt imperious, and the moſt
difficult to ſubdue, and the intereſts of man,
or the duties of ſociety? Would it not
produce, what has hitherto been a mere chi-
mera, nitional manners of a nature mild and
pure, formed, not by imperious privations,
by hypocritical appearances, by reſerves im-
poſed by the fear of ſhame or religious ter-
rors, but by habits freely contracted, inſpired
by nature and avowed by reaſon ? |
The people being more enlightened, and
having reſumed the right of diſpoſing for
_ themſelves of their blood and their treaſure,
will learn by degrees to regard war as the
moſt «dreadful of all calamities, the moſt ter-
rible of all crimes. The firſt wars that will
be ſuperſeded, will be thoſe into which the
uſurpers of ſovereignty have hitherto drawn
of EY, their
( 4)
their ſubjects for the maintenance of rights.
1
pretendedly hereditary.
Nations will know, that they cannot be-
come conquerors without loſing their free-
dom; that perpetual confederations are the
only means of maintaining their independ-
ance; that their object ſhould be ſecurity,
and not power. By degrees commercial pre-
judices will die away; a falſe mercantile in-
tereſt will loſe the terrible power of imbuing
the earth with blood, and of ruining nations
under the idea of enriching them. As the
people of different countries will at laſt be
drawn into cloſer intimacy, by the principles
of politics and morality, as each, for its own
advantage, will invite foreigners to an equal
participation of the benefits which it may
have derived either from nature or its own
induſtry, all the cauſes which produce, en-
venom, and perpetuate national animoſities,
will one by one diſappear, and will no more
furniſh to warlike inſanity either fuel or
pretext.
| Inſtitutions, better combined. than thoſe
projects of perpetual peace which have oc-
cupied the leiſure and conſoled the heart of
certain philoſophers, will accelerate the pro-
ä 3 greſs
e -!)
„
greſs of this fraternity of nations; and wars,
like aſſaſſinations, will be ranked in the num-
ber of thoſe daring atrocities, humiliating
and loathſome to nature; and which fix up-
on the country or the age whoſe annals are
ſtained with them, an indeliable opprobrium.
In ſpeaking of the fine arts in Greece, in
Italy, and in France, we have obſerved, that
it is neceſſary to diſtinguiſh, in their produc-
tions, what really belongs to the progreſs of
the art, and what is due only to the talent
of the artiſt. And here let us enquire what
progreſs may ſtill be expected, whether, in
conſequence of the advancement of philoſo-
phy and the ſciences, or from an additional
ſtore of more judicious and profound obſer-
vations relative to the object, the effects and
the means of theſe arts themſelves; or, laſt-
ly, from the removal of the prejudices that
have contracted their ſphere, and that {till
retain them in the ſhackles of authority, from
which the ſciences and philoſophy have at
length freed themſelves. Let us aſk, whether,
as has frequently been ſuppoſed, theſe means
may be conſidered as exhauſted ? or, if not
exhauſted, whether, becauſe the moſt ſub-
walk and pathetic dente have been ſiezed;
| the
639)
the moſt happy ſubjects treated; the moſt
ſimple and ftriking combinations employed;
the moſt prominent and general characters
_ exhibited; the moſt energetic paſſions, their
true expreſſions and genuine features deli-
neated; the moſt commanding truths, the
moſt brilliant images diſplayed ; that, there-
fore, the arts are condemned to an eternal and
monotonous imitation of their firſt models?
We ſhall perceive that this opinion is
merely a prejudice, derived from the habit
which exiſts among men of letters and artiſts
of appreciating the merits of men, inſtead of
giving themſelves up to the enjoyment to be
received from their works. The ſecond-hand
pleaſure which ariſes from comparing the
productions of different ages and countries,
and from contemplating the energy and ſuc-
ceſs of the efforts of genius, will perhaps be
loſt; but, in the mean time, the pleaſure
ariſing” from the productions conſidered in
themſelves, and flowing from. their abſolute
perfection, need not be leſs lively, though
the improvement of the author may leſs ex-
cite our aſtoniſhment. In proportion as ex-
cellent productions ſhall multiply, every ſuce
elke generation of men will direct its at-
MA 5 tention
1
tention to thoſe which are moſt perfect, and
the reſt will inſenſibly fall into oblivion;
while the more ſimple and palpable traits,
which were ſeized upon by thoſe who firſt
entered the field of invention, will not the
leſs exiſt for our poſterity, though they ſhall
be found only in the lateſt productions.
The progreſs of the ſciences ſecures the
progreſs of the art of inſtruction, which
again accelerates in its turn that of the ſci-
ences; and this reciprocal influence, the ac-
tion of which is inceſſantly increaſed, muſt be
ranked in the number of the moſt prolific
and powerful cauſes of the improvement of
the human race. At preſent, a young man,
upon finiſhing his ſtudies and quitting our
ſchools, may know more of the principles of
mathematics than Newton acquired by pro-
found ftudy, or diſcovered by the force of
his genius, and may exerciſe the inſtrument.
of calculation with a readineſs which at that
period was unknown. The ſame obſervation,
with certain reſtrictions, may be applied ta
all the ſciences, In proportion as Lach ſhall
advance, the means of compreſſing, within a
| ſmaller circle, the proofs of a greater number
of truths, and of facilitating their compre-
henſion,
6 363
henſion, will equally advance. Thus, not-
withſtanding future degrees of progreſs, not
only will men of equal genius find them-
ſelves, at the ſame period of life, upon a
level with the actual ſtate of ſcience, but,
reſpecting every generation, what may be
acquired in a given ſpace of time, by the
ſame ſtrength of intelle& and the ſame de-
gree of attention, will neceſſarily increaſe,
and the elementary part of each ſcience, that
part which every man may attain, becoming
more and more extended, will include, in a
manner more complete, the knowledge ne-
ceſſary for the direction of every man in the _
common occurences of» life, and for the free
and independant exerciſe of his reaſon. _
In the political ſciences there is a deſcrip-
tion of - truths, which, particularly in free
countries (that is, in all countries in cer-
tain generations), can only be uſeful when
generally known and avowed. Thus, the
influence of theſe ſciences upon the freedom
and proſperity of nations, muſt, in ſome
ſort, be meaſured by the number of thoſe
truths that, in conſequence of elementary in-
ſtruction, ſhall pervade the general mind:
and thus, as the growing progreſs of this
5 ele-
(
elementary inſtruction is connected with the
neceſſary progreſs of the ſciences, we may
expect a melioration in the doctrines of the
human race which may be regarded as inde-
finite, ſince it can have no other limits than
thoſe of the two ſpecies of progreſs on which
it depends, |
We have ſtill two other means of general
application to conſider, and which muſt in-
fluence at once both the improvement of the
art of inſtruction and that of the ſciences.
One is a more extenſive and more perfect
8 adoption of what may be called technical
methods; the other, the inſtitution of an
univerſal language. Ry
By technical methods I underſtand, the
art of uniting a great number of objects in
an arranged and ſyſtematic order, by which
we may be enabled to perceive at a glance
their bearings and connections, ſeize in an
inftant their combinations, and form from
them the more readily new combinations.
Let us develope the principles, let us ex-
amine the utility of this art; as yet in its
infancy, and we ſhall find. that, when im-
proved and perfected, we might derive from
it, either the advantage of poſſeſſing within
_—_ - | the
( 363 )
the narrow compaſs of a picture, what it
would be often difficult for volumes to ex-
plain to us ſo readily and ſo well; or the
means, ſtill more valuable, of prifontlits iſo-
lated facts in a diſpoſition and view beſt
Calculated to give us their general reſults,
We ſhall perceive how, by means of a ſmall
number of theſe pictures or tables, the uſe of
which may be eaſily learned, men who have
not been able to appropriate ſuch uſeful de-
tails and elementary EnoWiedge as may apply
to the purpoſes of common life, may turn to
them at the ſhorteſt notice; and how elementary
knowledge itſelf, in all thoſe ſciences where this
knowledge is founded either upon a regular
code of truths or a ſeries of obſervations and
experiments, may hereby be facilitated.
An univerſal language is that which ex-
preſſes by ſigns, either the direct objects, or
thoſe well-defined collections conſtituted of
ſimple and general ideas, which are to be
found or may be introduced equally in the
underſtandings of all mankind or, laſtly,
the general relations of theſe ideas, the ope-
rations of the human mind, the operations
peculiar to any ſcience, and the mode of
proceſs in the arts, Thus, ſuch perſons 3
| a
( 364 )
ſhall have become [maſters of theſe ſigns, the
method of combining and the rules for con-
ſtructing them, will underſtand what is writ-
ten in this language, and will read it with
ſimilar facility in the language of their own
country, whatever it may happen to be.
It is apparent, that this language might
be employed to explain either the theory of
a ſcience or the rules of an art; to give an
account of a new experiment or a new ob-
ſervation, the acquiſition of a ſcientific truth,
the invention of a method, or the diſcovery
of a proceſs; and that, like algebra, when
_ obliged to make uſe of new ſigns, thoſe al-
ready known would afford the means of aſ-
certaining their value.
A language like this has not the inconve-
nience of a ſcientific idiom, different from the
vernacular tongue. We have before obſerved,
that the uſe of ſuch an idiom neceſſarily di-
vides ſocieties into two extremely unequal
claſſes; the one compoſed of men, under-
| ſtanding the language, and, therefore, in
poſſeſſion of the key to the ſciences; the
other of thoſe who, incapable of learning it,
find themſelves reduced almoſt to an abſolute
impoſſibility of acquiring knowledge. On
the
( 365 )
the contrary, the univerſal language we a
ſuppoſing, might be learned, like the language
of algebra, with the ſcience itſelf; the ſign
might be known at the ſame inſtant with the
object, the idea, or the operation which it
expreſſes. He who, having attained the ele-
ments of a ſcience, ſhould with to proſecute
farther his enquiries, would find in books,
not only truths that he could underſtand, by
means of thoſe ſigns, of which he already
knows the value, but the explanation of the
new ſigns of which he has need in order to
aſcend to higher truths.
It might be ſhown that the formation of
ſuch a language, if confined to the expreſſing
of ſimple and preciſe propoſitions, like thoſe
which form the ſyſtem of a ſcience, or the
practice of an art, would be the reverſe of
chimerical ; that its execution, even at pre-
ſent, would be extremely practicable as to a
great number of Objects; and that the chief
obſtacle that would ſtand in the way of ex-
tending it to others, would be the humiliating
neceſſity of acknowledging how few preciſe
ideas, and aceurately defined notions, under-
ſtood exactly in the ſame ſenſe by every
mind, we really poſſeſs.
2 5 It
( 366 )
It might be ſhown that this language, im-
proving every day, acquiring inceſfantly
greater extent, would be the means of giv-
ing to every object that comes within the
reach of human intelligence, a rigour, and
preciſion, that would facilitate the knowledge
of truth, and render error almoſt impoſſible.
Then would the march of every ſcience be
as infallible as that of the mathematics, and
the propoſitions of every ſyſtem acquire, as
far as nature will admit, geometrical demon-
ftration and certainty.
All the cauſes which contribute to the im-
provement of the human ſpecies, all the means
we have enumerated that inſure its progreſs,
muſt, from their very nature, exercile an in-
fluence always active, and acquire an extent for
ever increaſing. The proofs of this have been
exhibited, and from their developement in the
work itſelf they will derive additional force:
accordingly we may already conclude, that
the perfectibility of man is indefinite. Mean- L
while we have hitherto conſidered him as poſ-
ſeſſing only the ſame natural faculties, as en-
dowed with the fame organization. How
mych greater would be the certainty, how
much wider the compaſs of our hopes, could
| 15 we
1
Ve prove that theſe natural faculties themſelves,
that. this very organization, are alſo ſuſcep-
tible of melioration ? And this is the wy queſ-
tion we ſhall examine.
The organic perfectibility or deterioration
of the claſſes of the vegetable, or ſpecies of
the animal kingdom, may be regarded as one
of the general laws of nature.
This law extends itſelf to the human race ;
and it cannot be doubted that the progreſs of
the ſanative art, that the uſe of more whole-
ſome food and more comfortable habitations,
that a mode of life which ſhall develope the
phyſical powers by exerciſe, without at the
ſame time impairing them by exceſs; in fine,
that the deſtruction of the two moſt active
cauſes of deterioration, penury and wretched-
neſs on the one hand, and enormous wealth
on the other, muſt neceſſarily tend to prolong
the common duration of man's exiſtence, and
ſecure him à more conſtant health and a more
robuſt conſtitution. It is manifeſt that the
improvement of the practice of medicine, be-
come more efficacious in conſequence of the
progreſs of reaſon and the ſocial order, muſt
in the end put a period to tranſmiſſible or con-
tagious diſorders, as well to thoſe general ma-
ladies reſulting from climate, aliments, and the
nature
144
a7 3
nature of certain occupations. Nor would: it
be difficult to prove that this hope might be
extended to almoſt every other malady, of
which it is probable 1 we {hall hereafter diſco-
ver the moſt remote cauſes. Would it even
be abſurd to ſuppoſe this quality of meliora-
tion in the human ſpecies as ſuſceptible of, an
indefinite advancement ; to ſuppoſe that a pe-
riod muſt one day arrive when death will
be nothing more than the effect either of ex-
traordinary accidents, or of the flow and gra-
dual decay of the vital powers; and that the
duration of the middle ſpace, of the interval
between the birth of man and this decay, will
itſelf have no aſſignable limit? Certainly man
| will not become immortal; but may not the
diſtance between the moment in which Be”
draws his firſt breath, and the common term
when, in the courſe of nature, without ma-
lady, without accident, he finds it impoſſible
any longer to exiſt, be neceſſarily protracted?
As we are now ſpeaking of a progreſs that is :
capable of being repreſented with preciſion,
by numerical quantities or by lines, we ſhall
embrace the opportunity of explaining - the
two meanings that may be affixed to the _ 5
zndefinite. |
In * this middle term of life, which
in
( 369. )
in proportion as men advance upon the ocean
of futurity, we have ſuppoſed inceſſantly to
increaſe, may receive additions either in con-
formity to a law by which, though approach-
ing continually an illimitable extent, it could
never poſſibly arrive at it; or a law by which,
in the immenſity of ages, it may acquire a
greater extent than any determinate quantity
whatever that may be aſſigned as its limit. In
the latter caſe, this duration of life is indefinite
in the ſtricteſt ſenſe of the word, ſince there
_ exiſt no bounds on this ſide of which it muſt
neceſſarily ſtop. And in the former, it is
equally indefinite to us; if we cannot fix the
term, it may for ever approach, but can never
ſurpaſs; particularly if, knowing only that
it can never ſtop, we are ignorant in which of
the two ſenſes the term indefinite is applicable
to it: and this is preciſely the ſtate of the
knowledge we have as yet acquired relative hoy
the perfectibility of the ſpecies.
Thus, in the inſtance we are conſidering,
we are bound to believe that the mean dura-
tion of human life will for ever increaſe, unleſs
its increaſe be prevented by the phyſical revo-
| hutions of the ſyſtem : but we cannot tell what
1 B ä is
|
|
1
3
.4
|
hq
Can}
is the bound which the duration of human life
can never exceed; we cannot even tell, whe-
ther there be any circumſtance in the laws of
nature which has determined and laid down
its limit. | i ns wie |
But may not our phyſical faculties, the
force, the ſagacity, the acuteneſs of the
ſenſes, be numbered among the qualities, the
individual improvement of which it will be
Practicable to tranſmit? An attention to the
different breeds of domeſtie animals muft lead
us to adopt the affirmative of this queſtion, and
a direct obſervation of the human ſpecies it -
ſelf will be found to ſtrengthen the opinion.
Laſtly, may we not include in the ſame.
circle the intellectual and moral faculties?
May not our parents, who tranſmit to us the.
advantages or defects of their conformation,
and from whom we receive. our features: and
ſhape, as well as our propenſities to certain
phyſical affections, tranſmit to us alſo that
part of organization upon which intellect,
ſtrength of underſtanding, energy of ſoul or
moral ſenſibility depend? Is it not probable
that education, by improving theſe qualities,
will at the fame time have an influence upon,
| will
C =
will modify and improve this organization
itſelf? Analogy, an inveſtigation of the hu-
man faculties, and even ſome facts, appear
to authoriſe theſe conjectures, and thereby to
enlarge the boundary of our hopes.
Such are the queſtions with which we ſhall
terminate the laſt diviſion of our work. And
how admirably calculated is this view of the
human race, emancipated from its chains, re-
leaſed alike from the dominion of chance, as
well as from that of the enemies of its progreſs,
and advancing with a firm and indeviate-ſtep. |
in the paths of truth, to conſole the philoſo-
pher lamenting the errors, the flagrant acts
of injuſtice, the crimes with which the earth
is till polluted * It is the contemplation of
this proſpect that rewards him for all his ef-
forts to aſſiſt the progreſs of reaſon and the
eſtabliſhment of liberty. He dares to regard
theſe efforts as a part of the eternal chain of
the deſtiny of mankind ; and in this perſuaſion .
he finds the true delight of virtue, the pleaſure
of having performed a durable ſervice, which
no viciſſitude will ever deſtroy in a fatal ope-
ration calculated to reſtore the reign of pre-
- judice and ſlavery. This ſentiment is the aſy-
| lum
„
lum into which he retires, and to which the
memory of his perſecutors cannot follow him:
he unites himſelf in imagination with man
reſtored to his rights, delivered from oppreſ- |
fion, and proceeding with /rapid ſtrides in the
path of happineſs : : he forget his own misfor-
tunes while his thoughts are thais employed ;
he lives no longer to advyfrſity, calumny and
malice, but becomes the aſſociate of theſe
vwiſer and more fortunate beings whoſe en-
_ viable condition he ſo earneſtly contributed to
produce.
THE END.
. *
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